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“I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”
“That’s an understatement. So, what did you and Gwen do this weekend? Or is that too personal of a question?”
I don’t mind her asking about my personal life. I’ll tell her anything she wants to know.
“No, it’s a great question. Saturday, we went shopping for some new sneakers, and on Sunday, we had dinner at my parents’ house. Last night, we went to one of those art studios where everyone paints the same picture.”
“That sounds like fun.”
“It was. My painting sucked, but Gwen’s looked like it was professionally done,” I brag. “Oh, and we also went out for milkshakes afterward.”
“It’s wonderful that you make the most of your time with her.”
“Thank you. It’s easily the hardest job I’ve ever had. Most of the time, I feel like I’m failing at it.”
“I’m sure you’re not.”
“I wish I could be so confident.”
“So, do I get to see your painting?”
“It’s funny you ask. Gwen told me I should keep my lack of artistic ability a secret.”
“That’s kind of brutal,” she says.
“That’s kids for you. They keep it real.”
“If it’s any consolation, in my opinion, you have other skills that more than make up for any lack of artistic ability.” She winks at me, and I grin.
We settle into silence for a bit as we focus on clearing our plates. Having dinner together feels natural, like it’s a regular occurrence. I could easily get used to these moments and want more of them. She’s easy to be around, and having her beautiful face to look at certainly improves the scenery.
“What’s been happening with you since we saw each other?” I ask.
“Not much. I had a weekend filled with errands and cleaning. Exciting stuff.”
“Did you do anything fun?”
“I went over to a friend’s house for drinks.”
“A female friend?” I ask. My tone has a sharper edge to it than I meant to.
Her surprised gaze jumps from her plate to me, and she cants her head. “Why does that matter?”
I can tell her ire is worked up, so being honest is the best path to take. I tug nervously on my ear. I’m not a jealous man. I don’t covet other people’s successes or their possessions. And I never get jealous over a woman—and yet here I am, acting like an ass.
“It shouldn’t, but I hate the thought of you enjoying another man’s company.”
Her expression softens. “I was with my friend Lucy.”
I hold up a hand, stopping her from elaborating. “I shouldn’t have asked. I have no right to.” I shake my head. “I’m sorry.”
Her lips curve in a small smile. “It’s okay.”
I know I made things weird, and a subject change is needed. Of course, my mind goes blank as I search for something to say. I blurt out the first thing I think of. “How about those Coyotes?”
Mae’s head snaps up. “What?”
“I said, how about those Coyotes?”