Page 91 of My Rules

“Look, if you want a baby, that is none of my business.” I hold my hands up with a laugh. “I’m just saying, I like it rough, so ... the condom would be breaking.”

His eyes darken and then drop to my lips as if imagining something. I feel it all the way to my bones.

Oh no ... Did I just say that out loud?

“I mean . . . ,” I murmur, embarrassed.

“I know what you meant,” he cuts me off.

I take a nervous sip of my alcoholic coffee. “This stuff is making me very ...”

“Hot?” he murmurs.

“Verbose.” I sip my coffee again, feeling awkward; I really need to stop drinking.

For a moment, we eat our desserts in silence. I’m worrying that I came across flirty, and he’s probably thinking I’m a horny ho.

He could be onto something.

“You know what we should do?” he says to change the subject.

“What?”

“We should drizzle this chocolate all over those money-making feet of yours. Chocolate and feet.” He taps his temple. “Sure to be a winner.”

I laugh out loud and feel my equilibrium return.

“So, when are we going on our next double date?” he asks.

“Really?” I wince. “After tonight’s disaster?”

“Tonight was just a ...” He shrugs. “Speed bump.”

I lean on my hand as I smile over at him.

“You want to date without strings,” he says.

“You want to settle down but don’t want to admit it,” I add.

“Just ...” He smirks, and I know that I’m onto something. “Happy to explore my options.”

“Where am I going to find another date?”

“Ahh ...” He smiles as he pulls out his phone. “We have two options.”

“Such as.” I keep eating my cake.

“Elite Singles. Or Bumble.”

“Are you on those apps?” I ask in surprise.

“I’m on Elite Singles.”

“Why that one?”

“It’s for professionals over thirty.”

Oh . . .