Read Online Ex and the Single Girl by Lani Diane Rich - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lani Diane Rich
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lies go, it ’ s not so bad.”
“ Well, I didn ’ t exactly lie...”
“ Yes, you exactly did. I asked if I should know you. You said no.”
He held up one pedantic finger. “ That ’ s not a lie. Why should you know me?”
“ Because you ’ re Mr. Tan Carpenter. That ’ s a big deal.” He opened his mouth and I held up my hand. “ I come in peace, Tonto. It ’ s okay. I ’ m not angry.”
He smiled and sipped his tea, placing it gently back down on the table.
“ Sometimes it ’ s nice when I meet someone who doesn ’ t know who I am,” he said quietly. “ Not that I ’ m mobbed everywhere I go, but there are times when it matters, and I ’ d rather it didn ’ t. Does that make any sense?”
I nodded. “ I understand. And it ’ s really not a big deal. I mean, it ’ s not like we actually...” I made an awkward gesture in the space between us and we both chuckled a little.
“ So, how ’ s your dissertation coming along?” he ask ed.
I smiled. “ Great. Good. Almost done.”
“ It was about Austen, wasn ’ t it?”
Don ’ t know. Been so long since I ’ ve touched it I can hardly remember. “ Yeah. I ’ ve always had something of a fascination with her work. But lately...I don ’ t know.”
A light smile pla yed on his face. “ What don ’ t you know?”
I shrugged. “ I don ’ t know. I ’ m up for a faculty position. If I finish my dissertation in time, I ’ ve got a real shot at it.”
He lifted his mug. “ So what ’ s the problem?”
“ I don ’ t know.”
He smiled. “ Well, I ’ m sure you ’ l l figure it out. At any rate, you should be proud of yourself. Getting a Ph.D. is a tremendous accomplishment.”
“ Yeah,” I said lamely. “ I know. It ’ s just...”
I stared down at the table for a moment, then looked up to find him watching me, waiting for me to finish. He seemed genuinely interested. Maybe someday he ’ d write about a halfhearted bookstore clerk. Maybe the ambivalence I typically kept to myself would be helpful.
“ I envy people who know what they want,” I said, finally. “ I ’ ve been quarter-owner in a bookstore since I was born. It seemed to make sense to go to college and study literature. And then, I just kept going to college. And now it ’ s the end of the line.”
‘ And you don ’ t know what you want to do.”
I didn ’ t answer. He reached over and tapped tw o fingers on the back of my hand.
“ You ’ ll figure it out.”
I met his eyes, and my heart kicked up a notch. Time to go. I stood up.
“ Thanks for the tea,” I said.
“ You ’ re quite welcome.” He stood up as well. “ Thank you for the muffins.”
We smiled at each othe r for a moment, then I turned and walked to the door. He held it open for me and I walked out to my car without looking back. I parked in front of the Page before I realized I ’ d completely forgotten to ask him about the book signing.
“ So, you never had sex with Ian Beckett?” Beauji said, resting her glass of ginger ale on her stomach. We ’ d finished dinner over an hour earlier, and she and Davey had used a good meal and a bottle of wine to crack me wide open about Ian Beckett. “ Honey, if I had that man in m y bed, there ’ s no way either of us would have gotten any sleep.”
“ Surprisingly, that kind of comment doesn ’ t bother me as much as it should,” Davey said. He stood up and grabbed the bottle of wine. “ The third-trimester hormones are making her horny as hell. You should have seen the way she looked at the pizza guy the other night.”
“ I did not!” Beauji said as she smacked his knee, the only part of him she could reach without moving. Davey grabbed my glass and emptied the bottle into it, then headed into the k itchen, throwing a wink at me over his shoulder.
“ All I know is that if that kid comes out in thirty minutes or less, I ’ m ordering a paternity test.”
“ It ’ s not just that we didn ’ t sleep together,” I
“ Well, I didn ’ t exactly lie...”
“ Yes, you exactly did. I asked if I should know you. You said no.”
He held up one pedantic finger. “ That ’ s not a lie. Why should you know me?”
“ Because you ’ re Mr. Tan Carpenter. That ’ s a big deal.” He opened his mouth and I held up my hand. “ I come in peace, Tonto. It ’ s okay. I ’ m not angry.”
He smiled and sipped his tea, placing it gently back down on the table.
“ Sometimes it ’ s nice when I meet someone who doesn ’ t know who I am,” he said quietly. “ Not that I ’ m mobbed everywhere I go, but there are times when it matters, and I ’ d rather it didn ’ t. Does that make any sense?”
I nodded. “ I understand. And it ’ s really not a big deal. I mean, it ’ s not like we actually...” I made an awkward gesture in the space between us and we both chuckled a little.
“ So, how ’ s your dissertation coming along?” he ask ed.
I smiled. “ Great. Good. Almost done.”
“ It was about Austen, wasn ’ t it?”
Don ’ t know. Been so long since I ’ ve touched it I can hardly remember. “ Yeah. I ’ ve always had something of a fascination with her work. But lately...I don ’ t know.”
A light smile pla yed on his face. “ What don ’ t you know?”
I shrugged. “ I don ’ t know. I ’ m up for a faculty position. If I finish my dissertation in time, I ’ ve got a real shot at it.”
He lifted his mug. “ So what ’ s the problem?”
“ I don ’ t know.”
He smiled. “ Well, I ’ m sure you ’ l l figure it out. At any rate, you should be proud of yourself. Getting a Ph.D. is a tremendous accomplishment.”
“ Yeah,” I said lamely. “ I know. It ’ s just...”
I stared down at the table for a moment, then looked up to find him watching me, waiting for me to finish. He seemed genuinely interested. Maybe someday he ’ d write about a halfhearted bookstore clerk. Maybe the ambivalence I typically kept to myself would be helpful.
“ I envy people who know what they want,” I said, finally. “ I ’ ve been quarter-owner in a bookstore since I was born. It seemed to make sense to go to college and study literature. And then, I just kept going to college. And now it ’ s the end of the line.”
‘ And you don ’ t know what you want to do.”
I didn ’ t answer. He reached over and tapped tw o fingers on the back of my hand.
“ You ’ ll figure it out.”
I met his eyes, and my heart kicked up a notch. Time to go. I stood up.
“ Thanks for the tea,” I said.
“ You ’ re quite welcome.” He stood up as well. “ Thank you for the muffins.”
We smiled at each othe r for a moment, then I turned and walked to the door. He held it open for me and I walked out to my car without looking back. I parked in front of the Page before I realized I ’ d completely forgotten to ask him about the book signing.
“ So, you never had sex with Ian Beckett?” Beauji said, resting her glass of ginger ale on her stomach. We ’ d finished dinner over an hour earlier, and she and Davey had used a good meal and a bottle of wine to crack me wide open about Ian Beckett. “ Honey, if I had that man in m y bed, there ’ s no way either of us would have gotten any sleep.”
“ Surprisingly, that kind of comment doesn ’ t bother me as much as it should,” Davey said. He stood up and grabbed the bottle of wine. “ The third-trimester hormones are making her horny as hell. You should have seen the way she looked at the pizza guy the other night.”
“ I did not!” Beauji said as she smacked his knee, the only part of him she could reach without moving. Davey grabbed my glass and emptied the bottle into it, then headed into the k itchen, throwing a wink at me over his shoulder.
“ All I know is that if that kid comes out in thirty minutes or less, I ’ m ordering a paternity test.”
“ It ’ s not just that we didn ’ t sleep together,” I
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