Page 34 of Homewrecker

Klair waited until he walked away. “You’re terrifying and traumatized.”

I picked up my water. “Can you be supportive?”

“I am supporting you.”

I rolled my eyes as Klair walked away and the next man sat. Then the next. One talked about himself for three straight minutes. One asked how many children I wanted before asking what I did for a living. One told me he was separated.

I stopped him. “Filed?”

He frowned. “What?”

“Has anybody filed for divorce?”

“No, but—”

The bell rang and I stood smiling. “Good luck.”

He stood too. “Damn.”

“Nothing personal.”

“That felt personal,” he said, but I didn’t care to respond.

I was once the woman who heard it’s complicated and stayed long enough for complicated to become three years of my life. Every vague answer irritated me now. Every gray area felt like a trap. I’d heard all of it before. It’s all different words, but the same fog. I had lived in that fog so long I’d eventually convinced myself I could see clearly.

People thought Caleb had made me stop trusting men. I trusted men just fine. What Caleb had destroyed was my trust in myself. He destroyed my ability to tell whether I was hearing the truth or simply hearing the version I wanted most.

The bell rang again and I looked up.

Nash sat down. That wasn’t his name yet. Not for another thirty seconds. Right then he was just a man wearing a navy button-down with sleeves rolled to his forearms, and an expression that looked suspiciously amused.

“What’s funny?”

His mouth twitched. “I haven’t said anything.”

“You were thinking something.”

He tilted his head. “You can hear thoughts?”

“No. Faces.”

“That sounds invasive.”

“So does lying.”

His brow lifted. Most men either laughed too hard when I said something sharp or got defensive. He just looked at me.

He held out his hand. “I’m Nash.”

I looked at it before slipping mine into his. “Blair.”

“Nice to meet you, Blair.”

“You too.”

He released my hand and it became awkwardly quiet.

I frowned. “You’re supposed to ask me something.”