Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
After he’d convinced her the festival patrons would enjoy purchasing spring rolls and potstickers, he plopped down at one of several wooden picnic tables to jot down notes. Very responsible, which shouldn’t have been a turn-on. And I had zero reason to spend the time admiring his toned and tanned forearms, yet I totally did.
“Your…partner doesn’t like to cook either?” I asked, keeping my voice casual.
“Oooh, nice fishing expedition, Nolan. So subtle.” Okay, so apparently, I’d failed miserably. Merry chuckled as he shook his head. “I’m divorced.”
“I guessed you were a single dad.” I exhaled hard, mad about being called out. But I really did need to know whether our moment was something he had on the regular while also being partnered or if perhaps I was special. And I was mad at myself for wanting to know that too. “I’m just…curious?”
“Or nosy, but I’ll allow it.” He chuckled as he finished his note-taking. “Not much to be curious about. I don’t date. I’m divorced. The boys’ mother lives in Los Angeles. She’s a fashion influencer.”
“Really? Who?” I perked up at the notion that Merry had been married to a quasi-celebrity. “Maybe I follow her?”
Merry made a rude noise. “You’d certainly get along, that’s for sure.”
Oops. I’d failed Empathy 101. Again.
“Sorry. That was the wrong response.” I offered a sheepish smile. “It sucks that she’s not in your lives as much as you and the boys might like.”
“Eh.” Merry leaned forward on his elbows, propping up his chin like he was settling in for an inquisition, which I supposed this was. “Motherhood wasn’t her thing, and we both knew it, even before the shocker of a positive pregnancy test. I was more excited than her about the babies, but of course, I was twenty.” Gazing off into the pale blue horizon, he shook his head. “What did I know about twins? We tried to make it work for a couple of years, but she missed California too much.”
“She was from there?” I was starting to get a feel for Merry’s thing against outsiders and city slickers.
“Yeah. Her mom was a backup dancer to someone famous, and her dad owned a nightclub. She came to Hawaii to learn to surf on a break year from college. Met me, stuck around, but really, she was too glam for the island.”
There was a warning there, a reminder that I also didn’t belong and shouldn’t try too hard. I frowned, unsure whether I wanted to prove him wrong or shake his ex more.
“I’m sorry.”
“Eh. Don’t be.” He waved the pen he was still holding. “The tide has long since been out on that relationship. I feel bad for the boys’ sake mainly.”
“And yours.” I managed a chipper tone. “You deserve—”
He cut me off with a loud groan. “The school has enough matchmakers. I’m totally happy being on my own. The singlest of singles. Now, let’s get some food before more questions.”
“What’s the best thing here?” I asked boldly. After a lifetime in the city, I considered myself an adventurous eater and was eager for more insights into Merry.
“Hmm.” Merry narrowed his eyes, sizing me up. “How spicy can you go?”
“How spicy can you go?” I countered.
“Well then. There’s a rice-noodle dish at Hula Yum that’s my favorite when I don’t have the boys with me, but my fallback when I do is the carne asada fries from the taco truck.”
“I’ll try the noodles.” I marched over to the truck, Merry trailing behind me. “Can I get your dinner? As a thanks for helping.”
“Nah.” Merry was already pulling out his wallet. “I’m good. And if you’re getting the noodles, I’m getting the beef fried rice because you really should taste that too.”
“Okay.” The prospect of sharing food took the sting out of him not letting me pay. After the woman working the counter handed us a beeper to wait for our food, Merry led the way back to the picnic table.
“How about you? Husband waiting in the penthouse back home?” Merry managed to sound both friendly and not at all interested in my reply.
“No penthouse.” I resolved not to discuss the size of my parents’ place, which, while not a penthouse, was nevertheless large and airy by New York standards. “I have a studio near the theater district that I sublet to a friend of a friend for the winter. No husband, no boyfriend. I date here and there, but no one seems to want to stick around for the role of a lifetime.” That sounded rather mournful, so I added a quick joke. “I might be a bit high-maintenance.”
“A bit.” Merry nodded.
I made an indignant noise. “You’re not supposed to agree.”
“You’re wearing loafers that require actual polish to maintain.” He gestured at my outfit. Up until that moment, I’d thought I looked pretty darn spiffy. Narrow gray dress pants with a subtle sheen to the fabric. Vintage bowling-style shirt with whales on it. I’d thought the ensemble rather beachy when I packed it.