“You’re talking to someone who doesn’t have any ex-girlfriends, much less the ex-girlfriend,” I told Mimi, signaling her that I had this one. “Simon, an ex-girlfriend is someone you’re happy to see every now and again, you wish her well, but it doesn’t matter in the long run. The ex-girlfriend matters: there’s a connection there, there’s shared history, she’s even maybe the one that got away. An ex-girlfriend, we wouldn’t be so pissed over. The ex-girlfriend, yeah.”
“Wait a minute, just wait a minute. You’re telling me if I kissed an ex-girlfriend, you wouldn’t be pissed?” he asked, mustard on his lip again.
I closed my eyes. “Of course that’s what a guy would hear—no! We’re pissed if you kiss any ex, but an ex isn’t as big a deal as the ex. An ex, the ex—big difference.”
“Okay, please stop saying an ex. I realize it’s grammatically correct, but it just sounds weird. Plus it sounds like you’re saying annex. The point is, you’re pissed because he kissed a girl he had a connection with—or at least you assume he had a connection with, right?” Simon asked. Still with the mustard. This time I wasn’t telling him; he was in charge of his own mouth.
“Ryan, you told me this was the girl he almost asked to marry him, right?” Mimi asked.
“Yes.”
“I rest my case,” she shouted, dusting off her hands.
“Christ, this is going nowhere fast. Okay, so let me ask you this. Which would have been worse: if he kissed this particular ex, or had sex with some random woman he was never going to see again?” Ryan asked.
“Depends,” I said.
“Random. No, ex. No, random. No, it depends,” Mimi said, shaking her head.
“I give up,” Simon said.
“Do you have any Tums in your purse?” Ryan asked Mimi.
“I’m getting more wine,” I announced.
“You’ve got mustard on your lip, Simon,” Mimi said.
• • •
They left. Simon and I did the dishes in silence, passing plates back and forth to dry. He went back outside to the patio; I stayed inside.
Mimi texted me:
Do you think Sophia should talk to Neil?
Yes, she probably should.
You gonna tell her?
I think you should.
Together?
At the diner tomorrow?
Deal. Tell Simon thanks for dinner, it really was nice.
I will, tell Ryan thanks for coming.
They just don’t get it do they?
Eh, they’re boys.
They’re pretty great boys.
That they are. I’m gonna go kiss on mine. See you in the a.m.
XO
I walked outside, bringing coffee for both of us.
“This seat taken?” I asked him.
He shook his head and lifted a corner of the blanket he was under. I sat down and handed him a mug. He sipped, then raised an eyebrow.
“I wanted a little Irish with my coffee tonight. Thought we both could use it,” I explained.
“Agreed.”
We sat together for a moment, silent.
“We can’t keep arguing over this. This isn’t our fight.”
“I know it isn’t. It’s just hard to watch.” I sighed, looking out over the bay. It was quiet tonight, the fog softening all the sounds.
“I get that, but you have to let them work it out.”
“I know.”
“And they can’t work it out if they don’t talk.”
“I know.”
We were both quiet, under the blanket.
“You said something tonight that I didn’t like.”
Surprised, I turned to him. “I did?”
“Just because I don’t have the ex-girlfriend you guys were going on and on about, that doesn’t mean I didn’t have real connections with the people I dated. I don’t have ex-girlfriends because I didn’t have girlfriends in the traditional sense, but that doesn’t mean I don’t understand the difference.”
I nodded. “You’re right.”
“You can’t just negate my past because it wasn’t the same as yours.”
“You’re totally right.” I turned to look at him.
“Okay?” he said.
“Okay,” I replied. He was in a very different place with me than he’d ever been before. “Are we okay?”
“Of course we’re okay. Isn’t this how people in relationships resolve conflicts? You said something I didn’t like, so I let you know,” he said, puffing his chest out a bit.
“Well, good goddamn, Dr. Phil, color me impressed,” I said, clinking my coffee cup to his. “So what do we do next? Y’know, as people in a relationship after they’ve resolved a conflict.”
“Pretty sure a blow job should follow this,” he said seriously.
“Hmm, that does seem fair.” I traced my fingers up his leg and snuck over to his hi-there. “Did you want that right here or—”
“Christ no, it’s cold out here. Let’s go inside, where it’s warm, to conflict resolutize,” he exclaimed, jumping up and tugging me inside.
“Pretty sure that’s not a word.”
“Blow job is.” He locked the patio door and faced me with a knowing smile.
“I think it’s two words, actually.”
“Talking too much is what got you into trouble in the first place,” he said, pointing me in the direction of the bedroom. “Now get in there.”
I resolved him twice that night.
chapter nine
E-mail excerpt from Jillian to Caroline:
Sounds like everything is going great at work; everyone is saying what a great job you’re doing. I even got an e-mail from Max Camden, who said the work is coming along even earlier than anticipated based on the guys you recommended to hire instead of his usual crew—way to go, kiddo! Hey, how’s Monica doing? Don’t work her too hard. I know you won’t, but the boss in me requires me to say it. I bet she’s a godsend! And I’d tell you not to work too hard, but I know better, right?
Things are amazing here; I almost don’t want to tell you. But I totally will—I am in love with France. Seriously, I could live here. The food alone is a reason to chuck my passport and stay. Did you know you can harvest your own oysters and eat them on the beach in Brittany? Crazy. But now we’re off to Italy, stopping first in Lake Como to stay in a villa that one of Benjamin’s partners owns. No, it’s not Clooney, but I will tell him hello if I see him ; )