She set down napkins and silverware. “Thankfully she didn’t use while she was pregnant. She was doing really well. She’d been in recovery for almost two years before this relapse.”

They’d given us butter for the bread, but Vanessa pulled out two plates and poured olive oil on them. Then she drizzled them with balsamic, ground fresh pepper over it, and tore open two Parmesan packets and sprinkled it on top.

I rummaged our to-go containers from the bag and served her marsala onto her plate and set it down in front of her seat. “So who were the other two?”

“My half brother, Brent. And my dad.”

I stopped and looked at her. “That was your dad?”

She shrugged. “He wants to see his granddaughter. I don’t really blame him—but I’m not letting Annabel in here when she’s high. He didn’t mean to bump my lip, by the way. He sorta fell into the door and it hit my mouth. Anyway, I have no idea what I’m doing with this baby. Half the time I think I’m just messing everything up.” She sat down and scooted in her chair.

“Well, you should know that the reason she was crying this morning was because there was a plastic tag fastener stuck to her pajamas. It had nothing to do with you or your lack of parenting skills.”

She stared at me. “Are you freaking serious?”

I opened the lid on my ravioli and served it onto my plate. “I never lie about plastic tag fasteners.”

Vanessa burst into laughter. A sparkling smile lit her face. “Oh my God.” She shook her head. “Poor Grace.”

“I only thought to look because I can’t stand tags on my clothes. I figured that might be it. It was easy to miss.”

“Well, I’m grateful you showed up.” She hovered her fork over her food. “You know, you’re kind of a legend around here.”

I cut a ravioli in half. “Really. Why’s that?”

“You’re the sexy single guy in this building. And you’re all brooding and aloof. You have that whole smoldering alpha male thing going on. You came over here all like ‘give me the baby,’” she said with a hard face in a fake male voice.

I snorted. I was neither aloof nor brooding. At least I didn’t think I was. But then when I thought about it, I didn’t really talk to anyone in this building. Not because I wanted to be rude. I just left early and came home late and was usually in a hurry.

I made a silent vow to smile more in the hallways.

She took a bite of mushroom, chewed, and swallowed. “They’re not going to believe I’m actually hanging out with you.”

“Who’s they?” I asked, picking up my wineglass.

“The ladies.”

I raised an eyebrow. “The ladies?”

“Yeah. There’s the yoga lady in 303. There’s the super-early-morning jogger lady in 309. And the two lesbian ladies in 302—who by the way want to see if they can have some of your sperm.”

I started to choke.

“They’re family planning,” she said, going on. “They told me to ask you if you’d be open to it if I ever met you, seeing as how we’re next-door neighbors and all. But don’t worry, I told them it was a long shot. I mean, you can’t just come at a complete stranger like, ‘Can I have some sperm?’ I was like, ‘Come on, guys, at least buy the man dinner first,’” she said out of the side of her mouth.

I coughed into my fist, my eyes watering. “Thanks?”

“You’re welcome. I mean, I don’t blame them. If I was in the market for sperm, I’d probably want to ask you too. You’re obviously intelligent. Good bone structure, and green eyes are very nice.”

I cleared my throat and took a large swallow of wine. Well, at least I had that going for me.

She grinned. “So, tell me about yourself. Are you the sexy single guy in this building? Or are you dating someone? We should put this rumor to rest.”

I wiped my mouth with a napkin. “I did have a girlfriend. Rachel.”

“Did? What happened?”

Normally I wouldn’t volunteer the details of my love life. Especially to a stranger. But I don’t know what it was, I just didn’t feel like filtering. Maybe because Vanessa didn’t seem to feel like filtering.

“We met on a dating app eight months ago. She lives in Seattle. She’s also married. I found out this morning.”

She sucked air through her teeth. “Ouch. That sucks.” She looked genuinely sorry to hear this news. “So was it serious with you guys?”

“It was the most serious relationship I’ve had in a while,” I said honestly.

“Are you gonna get back out there? Fire up the dating app?”

I laughed dryly. “No. I’m officially done dating for the foreseeable future.”

I’d had enough. At least for now. I was completely and utterly drained. I wouldn’t say I was heartbroken—we hadn’t been together long enough for that. But I was hurt and disappointed and seriously questioning my ability to trust people. To say I was emotionally unavailable at this point would be an understatement.

She changed the subject. “So you own the building?”

“I do. A management company runs it for me. I don’t deal with any of the tenants. Actually, I offered your apartment to my assistant, Becky, before you rented it.”

“Was that the woman who brought you the dog?”

“You saw her?” I asked.

“I heard talking. I looked through the peephole. She’s pretty. You guys ever date?”

I shook my head. “No, we’re just colleagues.”

“Why? Does she have a boyfriend or something?”

I scoffed. “Sometimes.”

“She never wanted to date you?”

“Not that I’m aware. And the feeling was mutual.”

“Well, she must have some Herculean self-control.” She waved her fork over my chest. “I mean, you’re not exactly a hard sell. This body looks like you just got out of prison.”

I snorted. She just said whatever popped into her head, didn’t she?

“What about you?” I asked. “You said you don’t date.”

She sighed dramatically. “Well, the women in my family have a tendency to die young. I figure it’s not really fair to make someone bury me, so single it is.”