Walk of Shame (Love Unexpectedly 4)

“Enchanting?” I say, putting my chin on my hand and batting my eyelashes.

He laughs. “I suppose. Anyway, we weren’t really suited. My place was here in the city, taking over the family business. She wanted to see Bali and Paris and Reykjavik—”

“Iceland?” I ask, surprised.

He shrugs and takes another sip of coffee. “Like I said, she was colorful.”

“What about the delicate part?” I ask, not really sure why I’m so interested in this woman.

My dad stands and refills his cup, taking just a bit too long to do so, as though gathering his thoughts. “Perhaps that wasn’t the right word,” he says finally. “But I always got the sense that she needed me, just a little bit. Like a little part of her happiness would always be wrapped up in me.”

He shakes his head and turns, his expression closed. “Anyway. It was a long time ago.”

I force a smile and take a sip of my mimosa even though I’m dying to ask more questions. I want to ask if my mom ever needed him, but I suspect I know the answer.

“So who’s your opposite?” Dad asks.

“Hmm?”

His smile is a touch smug as he turns the tables. “I told you mine. Now you tell me why you asked about the opposites-attract thing.”

I run my red nail along the seam of the two leaves in the table. “It’s that guy. The one in my building I mentioned last week.”

“The divorce lawyer?”

I nod.

“Can’t say I ever saw you being interested in an attorney.”

“I don’t know that I am interested. I’m just…intrigued. He’s so different from any other guy I know. He’s so different from me.”

“Does he like you?”

I snort. “No. Not even a little bit.”

He thinks I’m perfectly ridiculous. And I’m starting to think I misinterpreted that card. That it really was a dismissal, not an endearment.

“Do you think maybe that’s part of the appeal?” my dad asks gently.

I give him a look. “You’re implying that I want what I can’t have?”

He shrugs. “Human nature.”

“I suppose that’s part of the allure,” I admit. “It’s not like I want to have him eating out of my hand or anything. I just…”

My dad leans back in his chair and studies me. “You want my advice?”

“Sure.”

“Forget him,” my dad says. “You’re smart, you’re beautiful, and you’re fun. If he doesn’t see that—doesn’t appreciate that about you—from the very beginning, he’s not the one.”

I blink. It’s good advice. Solid. Smart. Logically sound.

And yet it leaves me feeling a little…I don’t know.

Sad.

My dad’s right, though. Do I really want to win over a guy who thinks I’m brainless and then can’t utter a proper apology for it? Or a guy who eats only salad for lunch and power shakes for breakfast, and who can’t even acknowledge receiving a text message, no matter how lame?