you bring to the table.”
She sketches said table in bold, broad strokes. There’s a Pro column and a Con column, plus my name, JACK, just in case there’s any doubt who we’re psychoanalyzing today.
Her teeth chew at her lower lip. “First candidate for the Pro column—wildly successful venture capitalist, so excellent baby daddy.”
She writes BIG in the Pro column.
“Big?”
“Shorthand.” She gives me a dramatic eyebrow waggle. “For your...assets.”
Sharpie doesn’t wash off, now that I think about it.
And I’m not entirely certain she’s referring to my bank account.
“You’re not supposed to say those things, Hazel.”
She sticks her tongue out at me. “I’m too old to change.”
“I don’t think you need to change,” I drunk-whisper.
“I like me, too.” She nods her head vigorously. “But we’re doing you here.”
“All yours.” I flop back on the bed. “But be gentle with me. Next point?”
She holds her hands up in front of her face and squints at me through the opening she’s made. “Let’s add big blond giant with bad-boy hair to the plus column.”
“Okay. Wait, what’s wrong with my hair?”
“Nothing.” She scrawls HUGE on my bedroom wall. “But you do realize that you show up at the office looking like a poster child for sex, right? I guarantee half of our employees fantasize about running their fingers through it.”
I roll onto my side. “Now I don’t feel safe going to work on Monday.”
Hazel is already busy adding another word to the list. VERSATILE. “You’re equally at home on a surfboard and in a boardroom.”
“Versatile? Since when is versatile sexy?”
“Fine.” She scribbles out VERSATILE and adds FIT and RICH to the list. I’d like to argue with her, but both of those things are true.
“I’m feeling objectified here—these are all outside things. How would you feel if I summed you up as a great pair of boobs and a pretty mouth?”
“Should I say ‘thank you’?”
“Not yet,” I say darkly.
Laughter shakes Hazel’s body. She has a nice butt, which her yoga pants put on display. Not that I’m noticing her butt. Even thinking about my business partner like that is a recipe for disaster.
SHARK.
I stare at the new word that Hazel’s just scrawled on my wall. “What?”
She looks at me impatiently. “You have the killer instincts of a shark for a deal.”
“I’m not sure that’s a plus in the dating world.”
Hazel taps the Sharpie against the RICH heading. “Hello. The leg bone’s connected to the hip bone.”
She shifts the Sharpie to the Con column. Great. Now we’re moving on to my flaws. She may need more wall for that.
UPTIGHT.
“Hey,” I protest. “I am not.”
Hazel points the Sharpie at me. “You have the moral conscience of Michael the Archangel.”
“That’s a plus.”
Hazel snorts. “Michael is judgy.”
“You’re just messing with me.”
Her next words prove it.
TRUST ISSUES.
This one is in all caps and underlined. Wow. Hazel’s not pulling her punches.
“You’re wrong.” I take a deep pull on the bottle. It’s almost empty.
“You trusted Molly and she hurt you. Now you’re hiding up here like the troll under the bridge so no one can trample on your feelings again. You need to find someone you can be one hundred percent you with.”
“All this because I didn’t go to a party?” I set the empty bottle on the floor.
“Why do you think your marriage to Molly ended?”
Max, Dev and me? We’re equally relentless. We don’t know how to lose because losing, quite simply, isn’t an option, whether it’s surfing, the boardroom or life. Wipeouts? Sure. Neck-breaking, skull-pounding slams into the ocean floor? Bring it on—I’ll be back on my board in no time. Life isn’t easy, but I’ve always been good at what I do. No. Scratch that. I’ve always been the best, so Molly’s leaving doesn’t compute. I went all out, I did everything by the book, I did everything I could for her.
And it wasn’t enough.
Hazel makes a buzzer sound and chucks the Sharpie at me. “Wrong. You don’t need to know whatever bullshit reason Molly had for ending things between you. That doesn’t matter.”
“Walk me through your marital credentials again, Ms. Single Gal. I’m pretty sure that caring about my wife’s feelings was part of the marriage ceremony.”
“That was then. This is now, so you need to rethink. Like, was the marriage acceptable to you?”
“Marriage is about two people.”
“And you’re one of them.” She rolls her eyes. “Did you like your relationship?”
Fuck it. I’ve spent so much time lying. Lying to myself, to Molly, to the rest of the world. Was I happy? I wasn’t unhappy, but that wasn’t