“I mean, it’s more of one than dating is.”
“I don’t know. Everyone has a set standard of criteria they’re looking for in a spouse and once they find someone that meets it . . .”
“Yeah, but you can’tdoanything with it.”
“You can get a tax write-off. And like I discovered today, people buy you things.”
She snorts. “Fair enough.”
“You’re right though, I’m just being a shithead. There’s a difference, and somewhere along the line, we as a society conflated the two. Getting married isn’t an accomplishment, though you could argue that a marriage can be.”
“What do you mean?”
“Two people, choosing to take a chance on the other, building a life together, having kids or not, creating something that wasn’t there before, for the rest of their lives.That’san accomplishment.”
“Xavier Byrne, are you a romantic?”
“Maybe . . . maybe in some ways, I am.”
“You believe in love.”
“I do.”
“Soulmates?”
“Nah, that seems . . . unlikely.”
“Do you think we can choose who that person is?”
“I think it might be different for everyone. My mom never stopped loving my dad, but my dad falls in love like a swing voter in Ohio. I don’t know if either of them chose that. I can’t ask my mom anymore.”
“And your dad?”
“I . . . we haven’t talked in a while.”
“Because of your mom?”
He shakes his head, wondering if he’s become that easy to read or if it’s just that easy for her. “Yeah, he showed up at her funeral.”
“I . . .” She hesitates and reaches for the hand he has on the gear shift, twining their fingers together and resting them against her thigh this time. “I am so sorry, Xavier.”
He shakes his head, keeping his eyes on the road because he knows if he looks at her now, if his eyes meet hers, he won’t be able to force down the lump building in his throat anymore.
“He . . . he said it was what she would have wanted and that was probably true, you know? But it didn’t make it any easier.”
He sniffs past it and pushes down the anger that hasn’t really abated five years later.
“What about you?” He lifts his thumb and runs it gently across the top of her hand, squeezing to let her know he’s okay.
After a beat, she squeezes back and he could kiss her for letting him off the hook. “I don’t know.”
“C’mon, you asked and I know you didn’t ask without having an opinion.”
“We’ve spent too much time together.”
“Stop avoiding the question.”
“Ugh, fine. I think we have . . .somechoice in the matter, but I do think parts of it are out of our control. We can’t just decide to be attracted to someone, but someone can get more attractive the longer we know them. I don’t know, I think if anyone had figured this out, we’d know about it, and they’d need degrees in biology and psychology and probably sociology, too, to get anywhere near the answer.”
