"I see…" she murmured, leaning back. She traced the rim of her coffee mug absentmindedly, and for a brief moment, the playful teasing faded, replaced by a reflective quiet. I realized then that she was trying to understand me, to map out the puzzle of Richard Numero behind all the money, and casual bravado.
I took a slow sip of my coffee, the warmth grounding me. "Look," I said carefully, lowering my voice slightly, "I know how this must sound. And yeah, she's… easy, in more ways than one, but it's empty. It's never meant anything, and it never will."
I glanced at her and noticed the faint crease between her brows, the subtle tilt of her head, the way her lips pressed together as if she were holding back a storm of thoughts. She was confused, and more than that, I realized I had made her even more bewildered.
"I don't get it. How can you just… separate intimacy from something so intimate?" She was staring at me, her eyes wide.
