He looks at me and grins. “I did. This place is really small, but it has great feng shui.”
I plop down on the sofa beside him. “I agree. Although I’m not going to lie—you saying ‘feng shui’ kind of freaks me out.”
“It was my mom’s thing when I was growing up. We always had a plant in the east area of our house to promote health.” He makes a face. “That sounds ridiculous.”
“Yup. It does.”
He shrugs and looks around the room. “So what do you usually do on random weekday nights?”
“Well, my ‘normal’ has really shifted lately.”
“From?”
“I used to have Mia a lot,” I say, curling my feet under me. “Or I’d be with a guy I was dating, whoever that was. Or I’d be reading.”
“What about now?”
I snap the remote out of his hands to stop the incessant channel surfing. I key in the number to a channel on do-it-yourself repairs, figuring we could both enjoy that, and throw the remote into the chair next to me.
He balks. “Did you just take the remote from me?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, okay then.”
I laugh at the look on his face. “Now we can have a conversation.”
“Weren’t we having one before?” he asks.
“Yeah, but you were distracting.”
He snickers. “I get that a lot.”
I don’t want to laugh, but I can’t help it.
“So back to my question: What are you doing now?”
I consider giving him a bullshit answer, one to segue into something else. But as I take in the genuine sparkle in his eyes, I think he really wants to know. And that’s refreshing.
“I’ve been focusing on me for a change. It’s been nice.” I wince. “I sound like a total asshole.”
“No, you don’t. You sound like you’re self-actualizing.”
“Self-actualizing, huh?”
“Yeah. Like you’re aware of your potential and that you owe it to yourself to reach that.”
“What about you?” I ask, getting comfortable next to him. “Are you self-actualizing?”
He winks. “I am self-actualized. I’ve reached my fullest potential. This is as good as it gets.”
“Oh, please,” I say. “You can’t tell me you’ve reached your full potential in every sector of your life.”
“Maybe I have.”
I look at him blankly. “So what you’re saying is that Liz is your fullest potential?”
He grimaces. “That’s a different topic.”
“It’s not really,” I prod.
“Yes, it is.”
I cock my head to the side. “Then explain that to me, Mr. Self-Actualized.”
He rolls his eyes and falls back into the cushions. “I don’t define what fulfills me like most people.”
“Oh, I forgot. You don’t believe in love.”
His arms come out to the sides, and he shrugs, as if to say, “Bingo.”
We sit in a tricky silence. Love is a sticking point with both of us, and if I push, it could ruin the entire mood of the evening.
“Want some tea?” I ask, getting to my feet.
“Sure.”
“Be right back.”
He takes my unspoken request not to follow and stays sitting. I head to the kitchen and pour two glasses of tea, considering the whole time that I might not be as smart as I think I am. I could get in way over my head before I know it if I’m not careful. It feels too natural around him, too amiable, to remember all the danger that comes with a guy like him—a guy who’s on the opposite side of the spectrum in terms of what he wants out of life.
By the time I get back, the television is off.
“Thanks,” he says, taking a glass.
I sit on the couch, placing my glass on the coffee table. I pull my feet up beside me.
The room is quiet. I wonder vaguely if he can hear my heartbeat. I can’t hear his over my own, but I can hear every whisper of a breath he takes.
“Can I tell you something?” he asks. His elbows rest on his knees, his head hanging.
“Of course.”
“If I were going to define fulfillment like most people, I’d pick a woman a lot like you.” He lifts his head just enough to see me from the side. “But don’t take that the wrong way.”
My body fills with a warmth that is fleeting. The look in his eyes is so full of caution that I back away. And what’s worse is I don’t want to back away. These aren’t pickup lines. He knows he shouldn’t be even saying them. Yet he is. And although I see caution, I also see an element of sadness. But again, I won’t overthink that either. He’d pick a woman like me, but it won’t be me.
“Can I ask what she would be like?” I ask.
“Intelligent. Funny as hell. An ability to hold her own. And she’d be gorgeous but not really have any idea how pretty she is.”
He takes my feet and rests them on his knees. It’s a break in the rules, but it feels too good to have the contact, so I let it go.