The Bookish Life of Nina Hill - Abbi Waxman Page 0,63
at her, his curly mouth turned up in a smile. He waited, and Nina continued. “No, I just never knew who he was. I asked, of course, when I was little, but my mom shrugged and said she didn’t know.”
“Party girl, your mom?”
“I guess. And apparently also a liar.” Nina waited while the waiter poured them both some wine and then raised her glass. “To surprises, hopefully pleasant ones.”
“Yes,” said Tom, clinking his glass against hers. “And to trying new things.”
A pause. Then Nina said, “But you do have some scheduled activities, right? The trivia team, for example.”
Tom grinned. “It’s hardly a full-time occupation. I do it mostly because Lisa needed someone who knew sports.”
Nina crowed, “I knew it! You’re a jock.”
“Nope, an armchair quarterback with a good memory.” He raised his eyebrows. “Are you going to tell me more about the whole dad thing, or are you going to move on to something else? That’s kind of a big deal, right?”
“I guess so,” said Nina. “I’m still not really sure what to think about it. I’m not a little girl anymore, right? And it’s not like he’s even around to get to know.”
“Brothers and sisters?”
Nina nodded. “Several. And nieces and nephews, and great-nieces and great-nephews, even.”
“How is that?” Tom asked, so Nina explained. Archie and Peter had been right; it got easier.
Tom smiled. “Well, it sounds like you got at least one good brother and a fabulous nephew out of it, and that’s more than most people.”
Their food arrived, and Nina continued the conversation around a bite of cheeseburger.
“Do you have a big family?”
“Not like yours. I have a brother and sister.”
“Older or younger?”
“One of each. Older brother, younger sister. My brother’s getting married soon.”
“Are you going to be a bridesmaid?” Nina looked up at him through her eyelashes. “Will you have a pretty frock?”
“Yeah,” he said, “if they can find one to fit me. I’m not built like the other girls.” He copied her glance-through-the-eyelashes move, pulling it off surprisingly well.
“I can see that,” replied Nina, then blushed. She wasn’t anxious around Tom, which was unexpected and pleasant, but she was definitely . . . aware. It was there in the air between them, an unspoken expectation of more to come. A whole other conversation was going on, wordless but clear.
“Shall I get the check?” asked Tom, his voice quiet.
“Yes,” said Nina. She swallowed. “I should head home.”
“Still time for a chapter before bed?” He smiled.
“Maybe,” she replied.
It turned out they’d both taken ride share to get to the movies, so they started walking south toward Larchmont.
Tom took a deep breath. “So, I guess your busy schedule doesn’t allow for much dating?”
Nina took a similarly deep breath. “Not really.” She paused. “And I’m pretty happy being single, honestly. I have plenty of . . .”
“Friends?” finished Tom, and Nina nodded. “Me too. You never wanted anything more?”
Nina didn’t reply for a moment, as they crossed Santa Monica Boulevard. “I’m not against it. I’m just not looking for it. Do you know what I mean?”
“Sure,” Tom replied, easily. He effected a Garbo-esque accent. “You want to be alone.”
“You know, she never actually said that. She said she wanted to be left alone, totally different.” Nina shook her head. “I get it. I want to be left alone, too.” She looked at him quickly. “Not by everyone. Just by most people. I like a quiet life.”
He snorted. “Have you thought about leaving LA? It’s not exactly a Trappist monastery.” A chorus of horns underscored his point.
“I noticed that,” she replied. “But I grew up here; traffic is the rumble of the ocean to me.” They crossed Melrose. “What about you? Do you date a lot?”
He shrugged. “On and off. I had a girlfriend for a while. We broke up a few months ago.”
“Oh yeah?” Why did that make her frown, wondered Nina. Maybe because a few months didn’t seem very long.
“Yeah. It ended badly, so I’ve been enjoying my own company.” He sounded fine, but she wondered if he was still getting over it.
“You’re not friends?”
He shook his head. “No.” He was silent for a moment, navigating a busy cross street. “My brother says I’m a sucker for difficult women. He says I like a challenge.”
“You disagree?”
Another shrug. “I don’t think it’s conscious. I’m a fairly boring person, I think.”
“Not to me. Not yet, at least.” Nina was glad she wasn’t looking at him, because she felt herself blushing yet again. Her cheeks were such traitors.