“You are in bed with a woman, and you want to talk.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It’s me, Patrick. I know your history. Mr. Lipstick on My Shirt, Mr. Reeking of Perfume. You’ve been sleeping on my couch, remember?”
“Ah.” He rolled onto his back, smiling, winging his arms behind his ears. “So my efforts weren’t wasted.”
“Your efforts?” I didn’t get it.
He eyed me sideways and laughed. “Come on. Do you know how hard it is to get lipstick on your shirt collar? How many women do you know that kiss a man’s neck when they’re not naked? Women who still have lipstick on.” I thought about it, but before I could come up with an answer, he continued. “I was trying to get a certain person’s attention.”
“Wha—?” I paused, taking it all in. “You mean … me?”
He laughed again, but now he looked a little shy. My brain continued to work overtime. “You mean … you were trying to get my attention by getting heavy with other women?”
“When you put it like that, it sounds a little counterproductive. But, yes.”
Part of me wanted to slap him. Another part wanted to grab his half-naked body and … “In what world would it be productive?”
“I don’t know.” He smiled at the ceiling. “A lot of other women seem to find me attractive. I thought if you saw how they saw me…”
“So you slept with half of St. Mary’s!”
“Not half.”
“A quarter?”
“Two,” he said.
“Two?”
“Two.”
His face was earnest. And while Patrick was many things, he wasn’t a liar. “Wow. Just two.” I should have been relieved, but a strange, unpleasant feeling began to burn through me. “Which two?”
Patrick started to shake his head.
“Come on,” I said. “If it’s only two, you’ll remember which ones. Tell me.”
“I remember who they are, Nev. But I’m not telling you.”
“Patrick. If we are going to be in a relationship, we have to be honest with each other, right?”
He raised his eyebrows and I cursed internally. I was hardly the advocate for open honesty. I prepared to retract the question when he spoke very, very quietly.
“Leila. And Kate.”
I nodded, tried to look indifferent. I’d suspected Leila, but still, it irked me. And Kate—I didn’t know her very well, but she was very nice. And pretty.
“Both were onetime things,” he said.
“When?”
“Ages ago.”
“When you were married to Karolina?”
“No.” Patrick’s response was immediate, and horrified. “I was never unfaithful to Karolina. Kate was shortly after the split, and Leila, a year ago.” He searched my face. “Karolina was unfaithful to me. You knew that, right?”
“No. No, I didn’t know that. I assumed … well, with all the women afterwards…”
“There were quite a few women afterwards,” he admitted. “Probably not as many as you recall. But I never crossed the line while I was married. I can’t believe you thought I would.”
I was thrown. All the judgments I’d made about Patrick—his infidelity, his string of women—were all getting thrown out faster than I could ask him about it. Either he was a really good PR person or—or I’d gotten him all wrong. I hoped it was the latter.
“I’m not that guy, Nev,” he said, and pulled me toward him. “I may be a flirt … but I’m not that guy.”
“Well, good,” I said, resting my cheek on his chest. “Then it might just work out for us after all.”