Page 65 of The Thinnest Air

I smirk, rolling my eyes. “What’s his real name?”

“Jake. But Little Harris has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“You’re so full of yourself.” I pull my phone from my bag, checking my e-mail out of sheer boredom. The only e-mails I get these days are when Nordstrom has a sale or Net-a-Porter has free shipping on orders over $500. “Make me an iced chai, will you?”

He places a mug in front of me.

It was already made.

“Whoa.” My eyes meet his. “When did you ...? I didn’t even notice ... Wow. Thank you.”

“Don’t act so surprised. I’m not always a giant fucking asshole.” He returns to Little Harris, instructing him on the best way to make a foam leaf on the top of a cappuccino, and when he comes back, he rests his elbows on the counter. “I just want to apologize.”

“What for?”

“For always being so hard on you.”

“That’s an understatement.”

He glances down for a second. “Talking to you this past month, getting to know you ... I realize that you were just lost, doing the best you could with what you were given. A flaky mother. An absent father. A control freak sister.”

He smirks. So do I.

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” I say, my hands around my sweating cup.

“Neither do I,” he says. “No one does. We’re all just ... doing the best we can. Trying to make sense of things that probably never will.”

“Do you have regrets?” I ask when Ronan comes to mind. He’s been playing like a loop lately, and I haven’t the slightest clue why. Sometimes I can go days, weeks, without thinking of him. Other times I can’t get him out of my head ... wondering how he’s doing ... if he’s thinking of me, missing me and what we had. Wondering why after all these months it still matters ...

He shrugs. “Life’s too short to fixate on that shit. Suck it up. Move on. And try to do better next time.”

“Have you ever cheated on Greer?” I place my hand over my heart. “Swear to God, I won’t say anything.”

His nose wrinkles, as if my question has insulted him, and he tucks his chin against his chest. “Never.”

I don’t think he’s lying, but then, I’ve never been the best judge of that.

“What Greer and I had was messy and complicated. But I never strayed,” he says. “I never strayed because I loved her. I truly loved her. When I was hers, I was hers completely.”

“I loved Andrew,” I say, wondering why I’m using the past tense. “Love... Andrew.”

“No, you don’t.” He shakes his head. “You only think you do. You don’t even know what love is because no one’s ever showed you before.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve known you a long time, Mer,” he says. “I’ve seen the guys you’ve brought home, the ones in your social media news feed. I’ve seen the men who hit on you, who want you for reasons you can’t see because you choose not to.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on,” he says. “Do I really have to spell it out for you? Andrew.”

“Andrew loves me.”

“No.” He swipes a hand through his hair. “Andrew loves the way you make him feel about himself. That’s what Andrew loves.”

Shaking my head, I say, “You’ve met him all of one time. I don’t think you’re qualified to make that call.”

“Oh, I’m making that call. I’m calling it,” he says, half teasing, half clearly frustrated with me for not buying what he’s selling. “He’s a wealthy, insecure man. You’re a young, beautiful woman. Nothing good can come from a combination like that.”