Nicole has a more moderate take on it, enjoying the silliest of the exhibits and standing for a long time in front of works by Picasso and Dali. Now those, I can appreciate.
We take an elevator to the top of the building and ask in the restaurant for a table for two near the windows that overlook the River Thames and St. Paul's Cathedral. The food will most likely be average, but the view is really something, so I don't object to staying.
Nicole is an excellent tour guide, contagiously enthusiastic, and with a cheeky sense of humor. She made no effort to conceal her ogling of the nude statues in the museum and giggled at the lack of “men's bits”. I shouldn't have been amused, but I couldn't help myself.
In the restaurant, though, she's subdued.
It has been a strange day of ups and downs. I just want to be able to leave with everything okay between us, but even as I think of returning home without her, my stomach knots. I watch as she tucks her glossy dark hair behind her ear as we wait for our main courses. She's such a beautiful girl, young and fresh but with a maturity that gives her a fascinating edge, and enough challenge in her to keep me on my toes. I can't help but think about the things we have done together. The sight of her naked body is still fresh in my mind, too, but that isn't what this is about.
She interrupts my train of thought with a question about my family that catches me off guard.
"I have a brother and a sister," I tell her. "My brother lives in New York – I think I told you – and my sister lives in California near my parents. She's the only married one, much to my mother's disappointment."
"You all live so far apart," she says, looking sad for me. "My parents are so close that I could see them every day if I wanted."
"Some families are better living far apart," I say, noting the pity in her eyes. It's definitely true in my case. I couldn't stand my mom's constant questions about my private life or my father's determination to interrogate me about AHP. It's worse since what had happened with Adrianna. I was weakened in their view, which only makes family life more difficult.
"That's sad. I always want to be close to my parents," Nicole says.
"You're younger." I recall the nine-year age gap that I worked out there is between us. "They've had less time to annoy you." It's an attempt at humor that falls flat.
"Everyone's families are different," she says cautiously as if she doesn't want to hurt my feelings.
"Yes. I can't fault them for their willingness to back me financially or their drive to help me succeed."
"They've done a good job," Nicole gives me a small smile. "You're a good man." Her words shock me because most of my conduct doesn't really support that statement.
"Am I?"
"You don't think you are?"
I'm rescued by the server arriving with our food, and I manage to steer the conversation away from the minefield of my self-opinion while we eat.
It's after our plates are cleared that Nicole starts to ask questions again.
"So, your rule…" she says, swirling the straw around in her drink, avoiding my gaze.
"Yes."
"Why do you have it?" Her eyes flick to mine, curious and cautious, obviously aware that this isn't a subject I relish in the slightest.
"Because I don't want the women who I sleep with to get attached, and I've found that they're more likely to if I sleep with them three times or more."
"That seems like a bit of a generalization," she says, frowning.
"It's my experience."
"So, it's all about their feelings?"
"Not all, but mostly." I feel as though she's peeling me up at the corners and peeking underneath, and I don't want her to catch a glimpse of my demons and think the worst of me. I hold my weaknesses in a tightly sealed box that even I don't want to open because of the shame.
"So, it's about your feelings too?"
"You should have been a psychologist," I say dryly, sipping my whiskey.
"Maybe," she smiles. "Why don't you want to get attached?"
"Because I have a busy life with lots of responsibilities and people who are relying on me. I don't have time for attachments or complex relationship politics. Women can be hard work, so casual sex suits my lifestyle."
"Mmm," she says, looking thoughtful. "Doesn't it get lonely?"
I shrug, brushing off her analysis, which is getting really close to the bone. "Not really. I have lots of friends and acquaintances and a work life that keeps me exceptionally busy."
"But no intimacy?"
"It's overrated," I say, thinking back to the last time I made love to Adrianna before I found out the truth. I'd looked down at her face as she came, and I remember the rush of love and adoration I felt, but it had been for nothing; a figment of my imagination born of my foolish trust.