But they hadn’t managed to stay together, which made this ride even more insane.
Then again, just to play devil’s advocate—and because she was into suffering, remember—could it really hurt so much to have a chat for old times’ sake? Because really, once her mind and heart had gotten over the shock of seeing him again and had absorbed the fact that she really was talking to him after all these years, and that he had the T-bird and she didn’t, it didn’t hurt as bad as it had way back then. Now, it was more of a dull, vague ache than the open, gaping wound like the days and weeks and months after he dumped her.
At the great place Michael knew, they sat outside on cushy chairs and ordered martinis. The conversation was a little stilted at first—he asked about her family, she said they were fine. Then without thinking, she asked about his family, and there was an awkward silence.
Then Michael asked her about Brad.
“My roommate,” Leah said. “We rent a house in Venice Beach.”
“That’s great,” he said.
“No, not great,” she said with a half smile. “It’s a bungalow that’s run down and falling apart, and as a result, we rent it for dirt cheap.”
“Ah,” he said, and sipped his martini. One strand of dark hair fell across his forehead. She had the urge to brush that lock away from his eye like she used to. She sipped her martini and looked around the room.
“So . . .” Michael said casually, “is there anyone else besides Brad?”
“Nope. Just the two of us.”
“I mean a guy,” he said, sitting up and bracing his elbows on the arms of his chair.
“What sort of guy?”
“A guy,” he said, smiling at her obstinate response. “A significant other, a fiancé, a husband—that sort of guy.”
Leah inadvertently snorted into her drink. “Not at the moment.”
“Good.”
She smiled a little at how firmly he’d said it. “I’d ask the same of you,” she said lightly, “but I think I know the answer.”
“Oh yeah? So what’s the answer, Smarty Pants?”
She shrugged, took a long sip of her martini. “It’s not like it’s hard to figure out. Extreme Bachelor—need I say more?” Ha! Michael actually colored a bit. She hoped he was squirming in his chair. “Your reputation precedes you, Smarty Pants.”
He laughed uneasily, but his eyes crinkled in the corners, and his gaze, soft and deep and the color of warm molasses, seeped into her. “That’s just talk,” he said. “I’ve dated around, but it’s not like they make it out to be. The truth is, there hasn’t been anyone serious in my life since you.”
The warm feeling sank a little deeper—but it also infuriated her. No one since her? He had no idea what that really meant. “Dated around,” she said breezily. “Sounds kind of slutty.”
Michael almost choked on his olive. “I didn’t say I was sleeping around. I said I dated around.”
“Oh. So you haven’t slept around?”
He sighed. “Obviously, I don’t know what I am saying.”
Exactly. Leah smiled pertly, but she was suddenly struck with an image of him in bed, having sex with a woman. “So has it always been that way?”
“What way?” he asked, his trepidation evident.
“Did you ever get married?”
“No,” he said. “Did you?”
Oh yeah, right. Married, divorced, dating around . . . Leah rolled her eyes. “No. So you didn’t marry an Austrian woman?” she blurted, hating herself for even asking.
Michael seemed surprised and considered her for a moment before answering, during which time, Leah realized she was holding her breath. “I didn’t have a wife or a girlfriend or a mistress in Austria,” he said quietly but firmly. “I was never even in Austria—I just told you I was. I was never unfaithful to you, Leah—at least not with another woman. I was unfaithful to you with my job.”
Was that supposed to make her feel better? She’d been dumped for a job? She suddenly felt very self-conscious and glanced down, noticed she was almost out of martini.
“I’ll get you another one,” Michael said and signaled for the waitress before she could respond. That was the way he’d been—always knowing what she wanted or needed before she did.
Ooo-kay, clearly she had to stop this little trip down memory lane, because it was only making her crazy, taking her to the precise place she didn’t want to go. Light and carefree, she chastised herself. Definitely disinterested. Be disinterested. “Don’t try and get me drunk and take advantage of me,” she said sternly.
“You don’t get drunk, remember? Two is your limit,” he said with a smile.
Man, he remembered a lot, which was making it very difficult to be light and carefree and disinterested. “And you usually don’t drink at all,” she said, the words coming from that part of her brain that refused to listen to common sense.