“I’m not mad,” I tell her. “I’m confused. How long has he known that it was me he was talking to?”

“I’m not sure,” Irene answers, “but I know he knew before he got here today. Do me a favor, though, and don’t tell him that I told you? I really do think that he wanted to tell you himself.”

Eric.

The guy on the other end of the line, the one with all the fascinating things to say in our first conversation and all of the insight in every one since is the guy with whom I had serious and frequent disagreements with while he was working for me.

And he knew it was me.

My phone beeps.

“Is that him?” Irene chortles.

I look at the screen.

“Yep,” I tell her. “This just got really weird.”

“Yeah,” she says, “but he really is a great guy. At least hear him out—I’m sure he had a good reason why he didn’t tell you himself.”

“I guess we’re going to find out,” I tell her. “Anyway, I’m going to get a free ride back home before I do anything else.”

“All right,” Irene says and gives me a hug. “Thanks for coming. Oh, and on your way out, would you tell Alec that I’m having a little trouble hanging the chandelier?”

“I can help if you want,” I answer just moments before realizing that “hanging the chandelier” is code for “I’m in the mood for sex again.”

“I think I’d prefer it if he did,” she says, smiling. “Nothing personal, I assure you.”

“Yeah,” I laugh. “I got it.”

With that, I make my way back to Kristin and Eric, doing my best not to stare at him on my way.

“Are you ready to go?” I ask.

“Yeah,” Eric says.

Kristin nods.

I give Eric my keys and we leave the apartment, but not before I tell Alec about Irene’s problem with the chandelier.

*                    *                    *

Once we’re back at my apartment, Kristin makes a thin excuse and leaves in her own car, leaving me with Eric.

“Well,” he says, “I should probably go.”

“You can stick around for a little bit,” I tell him.

I’m not sure yet what to think of the fact that he wasn’t upfront about who he was once he realized I’m the one he’s been texting, but before anything else happens, I’d like to come to some sort of conclusion.

“I don’t know,” he says. “It’s getting kind of late.”

“Well, just keep me company for a little bit,” I tell him. “That is, if you want to.”

He looks at me and, with a modest smile, he nods.

“Great,” I tell him. “How’s the search for another job?”

“I’m looking, but things are still pretty sparse out there,” he answers.

“Would you like something to drink?” I ask.

“I probably shouldn’t,” he answers. “I still have to drive home tonight.”

“About that,” I start, “I was wondering if I could impose on you for something.”

“What’s that?” he asks.

Lie of omission or not, he was right about me needing some more help when it comes to training Cheryl. When I asked her what an assistant store manager was supposed to do, this look came over her face like I was drunk at the wheel, steering the ship into an iceberg.

“Well, I’m still struggling with training,” I tell him. “Part of me wants to hold on to as much as I possibly can while the other part wants to overcompensate and delegate everything to her. I’m sure there’s some kind of middle ground, but I’m having some serious trouble finding it.”

“I can probably do that for a couple of days,” he says, “but I really do need to focus on getting me and the guys another job.”

“Fair enough,” I say. “I was wondering if you could start tomorrow.”

He thinks about it for a moment.

“I guess I could do that,” he says, “but I won’t be able to do it full time, what with bidding on new projects and all.”

“All right,” I tell him. “So, how about that drink?”

“Wait, I thought you were closed on the weekends,” he says.

“I am,” I tell him, slowly making my way toward the kitchen until he gets the point and starts following me. “At least for now, but I want to get Cheryl prepared so she can start taking over some of my duties by Monday.”

“You know,” he says, “I’m really proud of you for being willing to change what wasn’t working for you. Not a lot of people are willing to do that.”

“Well,” I tell him, “like you said, if I don’t start delegating, the store’s either going to close or I’m going to end up burning out and, if I’m unable to learn to delegate before then, the store would close anyway, so it’s really by sheer survival that I’m doing it. I have beer or vodka.”

“Vodka,” he says. “I never really liked beer.”

“All right,” I say, pulling the vodka out of the freezer and setting it on the counter. “Did you want a shot or a mixed drink?”

“Surprise me,” he says. “To be honest, I’ve never been that good with shots, but I never know what to mix it with, so I really don’t drink that often.”

“Actually,” she says, “I think you’ve got that backward. If you drank more often, you would have figured out by now exactly what to mix your liquor with. Ice?”

“Sure,” he says.

I mix up a quick screwdriver, mostly for the fact that vodka and orange juice are the only non-water beverages I have in the house.

“So tell me something,” I start, trying to figure out how to say what I want to say.

“What’s that?” he asks.

“You’re single, right?”

“Yeah,” he says and I hand him his drink.

“What do you think makes a good relationship?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” he says. “Trust, affection, respect…I think there are a lot of things that go into making a good relationship, but even with all of those things, I guess you never really know whether the other person is where you are with everything, so who knows?”

“Trust, huh?” I ask, but decide not to push the issue until I have some more information.

“Yeah,” he says. “The problem, like I said, is that you never really know whether the other person is worthy of that trust. I guess that’s why we learn to trust people in the first place. Otherwise we’d all be paranoid of each other all the time. Still, I trusted Amy, enough to want to marry her, but that turned out to be pretty fucking stupid.”

“So, what would you do if you found yourself in a new relationship and you found out that your partner was hiding something from you?” I ask.

“Did you start dating someone recently?” he returns.

“No,” I tell him, “nothing like that. I guess I’m just curious. It’s been so long since I’ve had a real relationship that I’m just trying to figure out if I’d even be good in one.”

“I think you would,” he says, taking a drink. He swallows and wipes his mouth, adding, “I think your willingness to admit your own limitations should tell you that you’re ready for something more serious.”

“Is that what you want?” I ask.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you just got out of a relationship that ended so badly, I’m just wondering if you still have faith that they can work,” I explain.

“Oh yeah,” he says. “All that crap aside, I think relationships have the potential to be wonderful things. The problem, in my view, is that so often, people get into something wanting to change the other person or thinking that it’s even possible to change another person without him or her being really ready and willing to do the work themselves. I think that’s what dooms most relationships. In the end, the person never really changes, so you either go into denial or you grow so resentful that you end up wanting to blow the whole thing up.”

“Is that what happened with you and Amy?” I ask.

“To be honest, I don’t know what happened with Amy and me. Alec keeps telling me that he saw something was wrong from the beginning, and to his credit, that’s true. The only thing is that with him, he thinks that anyone who’s not in at least a semi-open relationship isn’t doing it right,” he answers.

“So you’re the monogamous type?” I ask.