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“Now, let’s see…” Cheyenne flipped through her cards. “Ah. This is a good segue. What’s your relationship with your parents like?”
Jesus Christ, this woman was really trying to get to the point. “Nonexistent.”
Her eyes bugged out. “Whatever for?”
I rubbed my chin.Stay calm. Don’t be an ass. “They’re dead.”
“Oh my God, Wesley.” Cheyenne reached across the table and squeezed my fingers. “I’mso sorry.”
I shook my head. “It’s alright.”
“When did they die?”
This had to be a prank. I couldn’t believe this woman was actually going on dates and acting like this was a normal way to behave. “My father passed from a heart attack when I was still a kid. My mother never got over it and died just shy of her eighty-first birthday a couple years ago.”
“Heart issues run in your family, then?”
“Is that what you got from that story?”
Cheyenne laughed as if I was joking. I wasn’t. “You’re a single dad and an orphan. Yeesh. What’s that like?”
What’s it like to be an emotionally devoid bitch?“Just fine.”
“Now, on to your ex. Why’d that end?”
That was a bridge too far. The other questions annoyed me, but I could answer them without feeling like my guts were spilling out onto the table. But this one…
This was more than personal.
“Creative differences.” I downed the rest of my wine.
“Oh, you business guys are always talking the lingo.” Cheyenne rolled her eyes. “Tell me the truth. What’d she do that was so bad you ended up with custody of your kid?”
“Lucy. My daughter’s name is Lucy.”
“Aw. So cute.”
I’d met toddlers with more emotional maturity than Cheyenne Brumley.
“So. What’s your answer?”
I blinked at her and then knocked her glass of wine over. It spilled across her index cards and right into her lap. She pushed herself back from the table with a loud gasp. “What the hell was that?”
“Sorry. I’m such a klutz sometimes.”
“You did that on purpose!”
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my wallet. I dropped a few bills on the table. “This is for the wine.” A few more. “And this is for the dry cleaning. Have a nice life.”
I walked away from the table without turning back, knowing Cheyenne’s tantrum would most certainly not be quiet.
Once outside in the cold night air, I found my anger at her turn to self-loathing.
Maybe if I wasn’t so damaged, this would be easier.
Maybe I’m too damaged to be with anyone at all.
Chapter9
