Ex and the Single Girl Read Online Free PDF Page B

asked. I bristled at first, but then considered what we were doing, and shrugged. Fair enough.
    “ No, it ’ s mostly just us.”
    I was sitting at the head of the bed with Ian at the foot, our legs stretching ov er the middle next to each other. The room was lit only by a series of small, rose-scented candles on my dresser, the mirror reflecting the gentle flickering light over the eighties heartthrob posters covering the pink walls. The room was kept like a shri n e to myself as a teenager, and whenever I walked in, I always ran my tongue over my teeth, expecting to feel braces.
    The first wine bottle was empty, and the second — which Id snagged from the basement about an hour after Ian and I first shut my bedroom door behind us — had maybe one more round left.
    I took a sip of my wine and dropped my head back against the headboard. The cool night breeze flowed through my window screen, carrying the smell of fresh pine and the hint of someone ’ s car exhaust. I was feeling softened around the edges and I liked it. Teaching at a university doesn ’ t give a girl much chance to be soft around the edges.
    “ The thing about the Mizzes is that they ’ re not bad people,” I said. “ They ’ re good people. They jus t do stupid things. Sometimes. I mean...” I sighed, briefly wondered what my point was, and kept going. “ They ’ re not bad people...”
    “ Don ’ t feel you have to defend them to me. I think they ’ re delightful. Barmy, but delightful.” Ian looked at his wineglass, then back up at me. “ Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
    “ Of course.”
    “ Of course you mind, or —”
    “ Fire away. I ’ m an open book.”
    “ Where ’ s your father?”
    I blinked. “ Gone.”
    He raised an eyebrow. “ Gone? Did he die, or...?”
    “ No. Just gone. Long time ago. I bar ely remember him. Anyway, did I tell you that Marlowe is the real Shakespeare?” Ian gave a small nod. Point taken, topic dropped.
    “ Yes, you told me,” he said. “ It ’ s an interesting theory.”
    “ It ’ s not theory. It ’ s fact.”
    “ It ’ s theory until you prove it, whic h no one has done.”
    He crawled over on the bed until he was sitting next to me, then reached over me and grabbed the bottle of wine on the night-stand, attending to each of our glasses until the last drop had been shed. I watched him, enjoying everything a bout him. His soft hair. The five o ’ clock shadow running roughly over his jaw and neck. The way he kept asking me questions and listening to the answers.
    “ How can you listen to all this and not die of boredom?” I slurred as he placed the empty bottle on th e other side of the bed. He settled back next to me. Our legs were touching. He shrugged and smiled.
    “ I like to listen to people. That ’ s how I get my characters. And apparently, I ’ m not the only one who does that, Eloise.”
    “ I can walk north,” I said, heari ng a snap in my voice that I hadn ’ t intended. I still didn ’ t understand what the hell that was supposed to mean. Peter had told me it was symbolic, but he had spoken around the meaning — something about magnetic forces that repel each other, blah blah blah . I pretended to understand, but I never did. It still irritated me, and I was glad the book didn ’ t sell well, making it easily forgettable. Until now.
    “ All right.” Ian sighed. “ Let ’ s not talk about Peter. I ’ ve learned my lesson on that one.”
    My head shot up and wobbled a bit. “ What do you mean? I can talk about Peter. I ’ m fine talking about Peter.”
    “ You tense up the moment his name comes into the conversation, and I enjoy you more when you ’ re relaxed. Let ’ s move on, shall we? Tell me about your… favorite boo k.”
    I decided not to lay into him for the tense remark. He was doing me a favor, after all, and he ’ d earned a little slack.
    “ We ’ ve been talking about me all night. What ’ s your favorite book?”
    “ You ’ re