“Well, you don’t have to worry about it now,” I said. “If he’s still selling, it’s on his hands. Not yours.”
“You’re right. And Joe would not do well in prison. I doubt a prison commissary would sell the fancy hand moisturizer he insists on using. It costs more than my shoes.”
I laughed.
“But his hands are very soft.” She pretended to gag.
I laughed. “So why do you still wear the rings if you’re divorcing that soft-handed prick?”
Ash looked down at her left hand. “I don’t know. Because taking them off means starting over? And I’m too old to start over.”
I didn’t know how old she was. But she looked like she was still in her twenties. If she was too old to start over, then I was doomed. Not that I wanted to start over anyway.
She pulled a plate of lasagna in front of her. “Can I ask you a question?”
I nodded. I didn’t really want to talk about me. Honestly making fun of Cupcake all night sounded a lot better. I looked at the plates and grabbed some ravioli.
“I’ve been dying to know all night. And I don’t want to make you feel weird or anything. But I can’t stand it anymore. Why is your hand blue?”
I looked down at the paint on the back of my hand. And I panicked and said the first thing that popped into my head. “It’s not.”
She laughed. “Um…yes it is. It’s bright blue. Like you dipped it into a bucket of paint or something.”
I shoved a ravioli in my mouth to stall and tried not to choke on it. I took a huge gulp of water. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She nodded knowingly. “Oh. I get it. Is it like…some kind of kinky sex thing?”
“What? No.” I looked at my hand. She wasn’t accusing me of being a freak and painting my dead fiancée. And she didn’t know any of my friends. This would in no way result in me being locked up in a loony bin. I wasn’t sure why my first instinct was to lie. But I didn’t need to lie to this girl. “I was painting earlier. I paint portraits.”
“You’re an artist? Wow. That’s so incredible. It’s so hard to make it in the arts these days.”
I laughed. “No. I’m not an artist. I’m the CEO of the city’s largest financial firm. Painting is a hobby.”
Her fork clattered against her plate. “Oh my God. You’re…you’re…”
I could see the moment of recognition before she even said my name. And it felt like the end of the night had come. One of the only reasons I’d put up with this crazy night was because she didn’t know who I was.
“You’re Matthew Caldwell? The CEO of MAC International?”
“Yup.” I tried to finish up my raviolis. As much as I wanted to get the hell out of this restaurant, I was still hungry.
“So you’re friends with James Hunter?” She gasped. “And Penny Hunter? I seriously idolize her. I want to be her when I grow up. I mean, she’s only a few years older than me. But she’s a redhead from Delaware. I’m so much like her and yet she married James Hunter and I married Joe Dickson. Such a different terrible life choice.”
I smiled. “So you read tabloids?”
“No. I mean, yes. I thought you looked familiar.” She threw her hand over her mouth. “Wait, your friend that set up the dating profile for you? That was Penny? Penny Penny?”
“Yup.”
“Oh my God, I casually flirted with her because I thought it was you. Chastity is never going to believe this.”
I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. No, she didn’t know my friends. But she knew of them. What if the painting thing somehow got back to them? They’d have a million questions. They’d want to see the portraits. They’d think I was crazy.
“Do you think you could introduce me to them?” she asked.
Shit. “No.” It came out way faster and harsher than I meant for it to.
She bit her lower lip and looked down at the smorgasbord of food on the table. “Right. Sorry. Date from hell and all that?”
“That’s not it.” But honestly, it kind of was.
“Was it because of the bathroom incident? Because I really didn’t mean for you to see me with my shirt off until at least the third date. That’s like some kind of rule, right? I’ve heard that somewhere. Honestly I’m a little shaky on dating rules these days. When is nudity allowed?”
“Um…”
“And we started over. I don’t even think I’ve done anything that weird since coming back out here. Except for the whole admitting that I’m obsessed with your friends thing. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like you too. But I read all about that huge scandal with James and Penny a few years ago. It was all over the news. And then their wedding night? Oh my freaking God! I couldn’t stop watching the news…”
“Yeah, I get it,” I said. “They’re famous.”
She was silent for a moment. “Are you jealous of them or something?”
I laughed. “No.”
“It kinda seems like you’re jealous.”
“I’m not jealous.” Again, my words came out icier than I meant for them to.
“You’re famous too,” she said. “Matthew Caldwell.” She smiled to herself. “I can’t believe I went on a blind date with you. Such a crazy world. And there’s no need to be jealous of your friends. You’re great too.”
I’m not jealous. Fine, I kind of was. But not of them. Of what they have.
We ate in silence as Ash slowly chewed another chicken finger. Until she started squirming and looked like she couldn’t stand it anymore. “So what do you do at MAC International?” She shook her head. “Sorry, you already said. You’re the CEO. I’m sorry about earlier, but please stop with the silent treatment. It’s driving me crazy.”
I laughed because it had literally been quiet for five seconds tops before she started talking again. “I’m not mad at you. And you’re right. I am a little jealous of them. Of what they have, you know?” This girl was a stranger to me. And I found myself wanting to get all this shit off my chest. I didn’t care if she judged me. I’d probably never see her again. And she’d certainly never meet any of my friends in person.
“Yeah, I get that. Their lives seem so perfect. True love and all that.”
She sounded like Tanner.
“I hope that one day I can experience that.” She sighed and dropped her chin in her hand. “Don’t you?”
“I have.” I wasn’t sure why I said it. I hadn’t gone on a blind date to talk about Brooklyn. Honestly, I don’t know why the hell I was on a blind date.
“You have? What happened?”
I took a deep breath. What was the worst that could happen if I told her? I might feel better. Maybe worse. Maybe this was just what I needed. A stranger to talk about Brooklyn with. “She passed away.”
“Oh my God, Matt.” She reached across the table to grab my hand. But before she reached me, she knocked over the candle in the center of the table with her elbow. It fell into the olive oil and the whole plate burst into flames. Ash screamed at the top of her lungs. Before I could throw water on the fire, she grabbed the side of the tablecloth, I think to smother the fire. But she pulled too aggressively and flung the fiery oil directly onto my dick.