I feel a bit weird agreeing to have lunch with Aiden. It’s not like I owe a fucking thing to Eric, but I still have feelings—very strong feelings—for him, and unfortunately I cannot have those feelings surgically removed.

Aiden has promised me that it’s not a date, but he also promised me a surprise, so I really don’t know what to think.

“I don’t really like surprises,” I tell him as we turn the corner.

I wait for him to tell me that I will like this one, but he avoids looking at me.

“I got Dmitri to fire me,” Aiden says. “In case you’re worried about that.”

I smile. “Look, I know you’re not like him, or like Eric. You shouldn’t be in that game at all.”

“That’s why I’m getting out,” Aiden says. “As soon as possible.”

“I’d rather be covered in bike grease all day than have the kind of dirt that Dmitri and Eric have on them. That stuff doesn’t wash off.”

“You’re being a bit…”

“Unfair?” I ask, stopping in front of him and turning to face him. “You know what he did to me.”

“I know,” Aiden says. “But Eric isn’t like Dmitri. You can’t compare the two—”

“Watch me compare them,” I hiss. “Let’s go. I don’t want to talk about Eric, if you don’t mind.”

He looks worriedly at me, but nods and continues forward.

We reach the restaurant—some Italian place—and go inside.

I notice immediately that there are no customers, which is odd for a place right off Central Park during lunch time.

“Don’t get mad,” Aiden says.

I look around, wondering what I’m supposed to get mad at, and then I see him.

Eric.

He’s tall as ever, and dressed in a suit. He looks at me with an anguished expression, opens his mouth as if to speak, and then closes it.

“I’m mad,” I say, my voice cold as ice. “That you would trick me into meeting him. But I’m more mad that he’d dare to bring me here.”

“Ruth,” Eric says, finally.

“Oh? So you’re speaking now? It better not be to me. I told you I never wanted to see you again.”

From the corner of my eye, I half-notice Aiden tiptoeing backward out of the restaurant.

“Let me tell you my side of what happened,” Eric says. “It won’t excuse anything I did, but I want you to at least hear it.”

I cross my arms and listen. Not for his benefit, but for mine. I want to know just how stupid and naive and gullible I was—so that it never happens to me again.

“Will you sit down?” He says, sliding out a chair.

“I’ll stand,” I say icily. “Talk.”

“Again,” Eric says, “I’m not trying to absolve myself of wrongdoing, but I need you to know what was going through my head. Dmitri and I made the bet in the car, before I even walked into the shop.”

“And your penis and balls sap too much blood out of your brain, making you incapable of calling off a childish bet? Once your brain realizes how stupid it is?”

He listens to me, takes a deep breath, and continues. “Once I saw you, I... it wasn’t love at first sight. Nothing like that. I was interested though. I half-hoped Dmitri would choose you for the bet, just so I’d have an excuse to go for it—”

“A cocky asshole like you wouldn't have had the balls to ask me out, really?”

He frowns. “I just wouldn’t have. You were too far outside my comfort zone. The other half of me though... I prayed he wouldn’t choose you. After you helped me, I didn’t want to have to make you the subject of the bet. I already regretted making the bet, but I didn’t back out.”

I feel my tears welling up, and I bite my lip to stifle them.

“It was the other half of me, the half that just wanted to ask you out. The bet gave me a reason to, and I did. After that first date, I was thrilled to have found you, but the bet loomed on the edge of my awareness. I tried to pretend it wouldn’t matter. That we’d win the contest and you’d never know. Of course, it didn’t feel good knowing that there would always be that lie between us. Still, it gave me a mental device to keep dating you and tell myself that I wouldn’t hurt you.”

He’s really this fucking full of himself? How could he think I wouldn’t ever find out?

“I realized,” he says, “that if I told you the truth too early, you’d just be done with me. You’d write me off as what you thought I was all along: the asshole playboy.”

“Yep,” I say, glaring at him.

“So I had to go longer,” he says, “It was the only thing that made sense. I had to show you what we could have, I had to get close enough that when I finally told you, you’d realize there was more to me than what you initially thought.”

He shakes his head. “Of course, by the time we were that close, I realized it was way too late to tell you the truth. Part of it was just cowardice on my part, but I also worried what Dmitri would do if I backed out—”

“So it was his fault,” I say. “He forced you to do the stupid bet?”

“No,” Eric says. “It was all my fault. I knew that Dmitri could decimate my business and my fortune with the bet as leverage. I knew you’d get hurt in the fallout, but ultimately I wanted to have it all. I wanted to keep you, and my fortune, and my status—and I still wanted to win the stupid fucking contest.”

“You’re talking in past tense,” I say, “As if you still don’t want that. Why are you here telling me this sob story if you don’t want me back? You don’t want to give up anything, not really. You just want to make it sound like—”

“I gave it all up,” he says. “I liquidated ninety-nine percent of my fortune. It’s being transferred to charities as we speak. Trying to cling on to everything was what made me lose you. I should have only been holding tight to you.”

“You got rid of…” I say, not quite believing it. “Everything?”

“I have enough left to support us, if that’s what you’re worried about. I haven’t sold the penthouse yet either, but Ruth, you’re all that matters now. Say the word, and I’ll get rid of even the little I’ve got left.”

I shake my head in disbelief. If he hadn’t gone to such an extreme, I’d almost suspect he was playing some angle. But there’s no angle to be had here, if he got rid of everything he’d worked for, there’s nothing he could be trying for at this point... beyond winning me back. He hasn’t shown me his hand exactly, he’s discarded the rest of his hand, and he’s just holding one single card.

“I’m going to go,” I say.

“Ruth…” he says, reaching for my hand.

I step back from his grasp. “Remember last time, I said I never want to see you again. I’m not saying that this time, but I need some time to think.”

He nods. I can tell he wants to grab hold of me, and I almost want to let him, but I have to regroup and compose myself first.

I cry when I finally get outside, and I don’t look back at all, not until I’m in the subway and waiting for my train.