Better Than Good Read Online Free PDF Page B

spaghetti, boys? Garlic bread? A Caesar salad?” Kristin asked sweetly. She gave a shy smile aimed in my direction. I tried to return it and hoped it didn’t look like a grimace. I wasn’t happy with the new development.
    I looked around at my buddies to see what they were thinking and found no support. Jason had his tongue down Chelsea’s throat, and Dave had a stupid smile on his face. He looked genuinely pleased to see Jen. That left me staring at my girlfriend like an idiot. I needed to get up off the sofa and act like I was grateful she had come with reinforcement to save us from another weekend of eating pizza in front of the big screen.
    I looked over at Curt, who had greeted the girls when they walked in but had since turned all his attention to his phone. I could tell he was not going to stay for dinner with three couples. Since I wasn’t getting out of it, I needed to get up off my ass and say something to Kristin. “Why are you here?” probably wasn’t the right thing to say, although it was all I could think.
    She didn’t seem to notice any awkwardness from me. In fact, she just gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and set to work in the cramped kitchen. I grabbed a beer and headed back to the living area, but not before I heard Chelsea say, “Kristin, are you making those Italian wedding meatballs too? Those are so yum!” I choked on my drink and scurried as quickly as possible back to the men and the game.
    The rest of the evening was my own personal nightmare. Three couples, one obviously serious, one more casual (at least that was my take on Kristin and me), and one in the just-getting-to-know-each-other stage. And conversation centered around marriage. Ugh! How old did you want to be? Did you want a big or small wedding? What did you think about eloping? Like I said, hell. To be fair, the reason the conversation came up was that mutual friends of ours had just become engaged. They’d been dating for two years and he’d just popped the question. It still smelled a little bit like a setup to me. Maybe I was paranoid, but I felt like the girls were all testing the waters to see what the guy reaction to marriage and settling down was like. I was painfully silent. I was afraid to even look at Kristin. She didn’t really think we were heading that way, did she?
    Apparently, she did. She was telling a story about some friend of hers whose wedding we went to in the spring and commenting on how gorgeous the flowers were. Next she was onto bridesmaid dresses. What colors look good in what season? Seriously. The conversation was bad enough, but the surreptitious looks she cast in my direction made me feel a little queasy.
    I liked Kristin, but marriage? I guess she’d make a good wife if I were ready for that kind of commitment. Let me be clear that I was not. Someday, sure, but honestly, I didn’t think I felt like Kristin and I would really make it in the long run. We talked easily, we’d never had a real argument, and the sex was nice. But that’s it. There was no passion. I admit it. I felt more passionate about the game she interrupted by bringing over dinner than I did about seeing her and being with her. If anything, I felt annoyed.
    Hypothetically speaking, if we were to marry, it would be a polite kind of affair. I could see my life ten years from now when I was approaching my midthirties with my pretty wife, our two kids, and a dog living in the suburbs. I’d be a soccer dad on the weekends, and she’d be the perfect mom, involved in the kids’ school and attending yoga and Pilates in her spare time. Maybe I would come to love her in time, but maybe I was just being a selfish bastard. If we had different ideas about where this relationship was heading, one of us should say something. Did it have to be me? Maybe I misread her wistful expression after all.
    The girls insisted on cleaning up, although Dave stayed to chat Jen up and dry dishes. He must have had a bigger crush than I realized. When