Down the Rabbit Hole

“So you canceled on Thanksgiving and she broke up with you?”

“Yeah.” He nodded to himself again. “Yeah.”

“Did you explain why you canceled?”

He took a deep breath. “Yeah, I did. But she . . . she didn’t think that was a good enough reason. I guess she thought I was being weak, or something.”

“Really? It’s a big deal to meet someone’s family. You want to be confident.”

“That’s what I said. But she said I needed to man up.”

“Man up? She said that?”

He tipped his head. “But hey, enough about me. Jeez, sorry. Tell me about you! Have you got an ex-boyfriend we can talk about?”

Macy laughed. “Sure, we can talk about me, but I have one last question. How long ago did you break up?”

“Just a couple weeks ago.”

“And you’re online dating already?” She thought of Jeremy, online after only a couple of weeks. Then again, so was she. She held up her hands. “Sorry! That sounded really judgmental.”

He leaned forward. “No, it’s okay. In fact, I want to explain. I had thought, initially, that in order to ‘man up’ in the wake of the breakup I should get right back on the horse.”

“Hence the cowboy hat?”

“Oh, hey, I never thought of that! No, see, I got online, found iLove, and who do you think popped up in my Girls You Should Look At list?”

“Your ex-girlfriend.”

“That’s right. So I put the hat picture up as a sign. To her. A reminder that we had something, that I could be someone else for a minute. Or something like that.” He gripped his head with his hands and gave a mock growl. “Argh, I don’t know. Maybe I just wanted to remind her I’m still here. Like I said, she makes snap decisions. Guess I was hoping I’d be one of the ones she regretted.”

Macy thought about Jeremy’s picture. He had zillions of pictures of himself, several of them professional head shots for his job. Why had he chosen that one when there were dozens he wouldn’t have to crop? Was it meant as a signal to her?

Then she thought about his essay. It had been full of things she’d said to him, criticisms and complaints and cynical observations. She spent a horrified moment wondering if that was all she’d ever said to him, negative, complaining things. But maybe he was trying to tell her he got it. That he understood the problem she had with him.

But if that were the case, why wouldn’t he simply call her?

Because she’d broken up with him. She’d pulled the plug, suddenly and without mercy. Certainly Jeremy had no manning up to do—if he was thrown out, he would move right on.

“I’m sorry,” Bill said, the sincerity in his voice breaking through her reverie. “I’ve gone on and on about me and my ex-girlfriend. That’s like number one on the ‘don’t’ list for first dates. I’m sure you’re thinking I’m not ready to date, aren’t you?”

It took her a minute to refocus on Bill. “No, no. It’s okay. I . . . To be honest, I’m pretty fresh out of a relationship myself,” she said, thinking, I make snap decisions too. “Why don’t we treat this as a dinner between friends, huh? No pressure.”

He smiled. “You’re on. Though I may live to regret getting caught in the friend zone.”

As it turned out Bill was every bit as nice as he seemed, but he was so agreeable about everything, taking on every opinion that she had no matter what the topic, that Macy started to understand a little of what the ex-girlfriend might have had a problem with. It would bother her too, she thought, mentally putting an X next to his name. Then she caught herself. Was she being—once again—too picky?

The thought made her try harder to see him as a romantic candidate. She upped her energy level, made jokes, looked him in the eye, tried to imagine kissing him, but the more of an effort she made, the more defeated she felt. There was absolutely nothing wrong with Bill, but she was pretty sure that by the end of the evening she’d have no desire to see him again. There simply was no spark.

She was sagging under the thought when a familiar laugh caught her ear. She jerked her head to the left to see, just beyond the near table, another two-top, where a pretty brunette sat holding a glass of wine across from, and gazing into the eyes of, Jeremy.

Her stomach plummeted to the floor as her wine threatened to launch in the opposite direction. Jeremy was leaning forward, seemingly hanging on the brunette’s every word, and the brunette was eating it up. Just as Macy had, when she’d had his full attention. She wondered how long it would be before Jeremy reached for his phone, but when her gaze dropped to his belt, where the ubiquitous holster resided, she was shocked to see it wasn’t there.

Macy got abruptly to her feet, causing Bill to stop mid-sentence. “Is something wrong? I’ve been talking too much, haven’t I? I always do that. I’m sor—”

But before he could get the apology out she excused herself to go to the restroom. She couldn’t do this, she thought. It was too soon. Or too late. Or something.