“I’m going to move in two weeks. What’s the point?”
“The point is you glowed while talking about her.”
I coil. “Clara, for God’s sake. I’m a man. I don’t glow.”
“So if you weren’t moving in two weeks, you would ask her out?” she continues undeterred.
“Good question.”
“What’s your answer?”
“Alice and I are different. She might not admit it, but she has stars in her eyes, believing in happy ever afters and all that jazz.”
“True. Plus, her parents have been married for almost four decades. I suppose it contributed to her being a believer.”
Usually I appreciate the fact that Clara remembers everything I tell her. Except when she’s turning my words against me. I have a hunch this is what’s about to happen.
“And your parents getting divorced when you were thirteen and still not standing to be in the same room with each other all these years later turned you into a nonbeliever.”
I shake my head, not really in the mood to delve into this topic.
“Clara, no offense, but I don’t believe in that crap. Justifying my choices by my parents’ mistakes is a coward’s way out. There’s only so much one can blame on childhood stuff.”
“It’s not crap. It’s scientifically proven. Our childhood years mark us.” Clara’s voice catches and she glances to her hands.
Way to put your foot in your mouth, Becker.
“Your story is different,” I say gently. Her parents died when she was young, and Clara spent most of her childhood in foster homes. Of course that kind of background shapes you. “My parents just divorced. Half the marriages in this country fall apart.”
She smiles weakly. “This is the last thing I will say about this, but there is a lot of research on the topic, concluding that people are afraid to perpetuate the same unhappy pattern they’ve seen in their family. So a child of divorce would not be a believer in marriage because he’d subconsciously fear that any marriage ends in divorce… and possibly kids going through the same thing he did.”
I brush the theory off, even though it doesn’t sound farfetched. In fact, it hits home surprisingly hard.
“How about I always choose work over relationships. There are only so many hours in a day.”
“Suit yourself, but if you think about it more, you’ll see I’m right.”
We finish our sandwiches in silence afterward, and my mind slides to Alice and all the fun we had yesterday. If someone had told me that partying with a bunch of seniors would go down as one of the best nights of my life, I would’ve told them they’re insane.
Then again, it wasn’t the best night because of the seniors. It was because of a certain spitfire brunette who is monopolizing my thoughts.
After we head inside, Clara and I go over the schedule for my remaining days in San Francisco.
“We should squeeze in the meeting with the producer one day at dinner,” Clara says. Dinner meetings are the last resort—something we do when every other option fails.
“Works for me. How about next Friday?”
She shakes her head, surveying her private calendar. “I can’t. I have plans.”
“Date?”
“Nah, I’m going out with Alice’s sister Pippa and some other girls from the family.”
“I didn’t realize you knew them personally.”
“I dropped by one of Alice’s locations after the Delicious Dining team said they might be interested in featuring all three restaurants. Wanted to check it out for myself. Pippa was there and one thing led to another.”
“Why am I suspecting I was the talk of the town?”