“No. That’s Mickey. The very pretty woman?”

“Other than you, babe?”

“The one you made a pass at last May. At the yacht christening party she mentioned.”

He blinked. “I think she . . . no. I’ve never met her.”

“She said you pressed her against a wall, kissed her neck, gave her your room key to the Madison Beach Hotel. Where we then spent the night after she turned you down.”

His neck was getting red. “She must have me confused with someone else.”

“You said you’d ‘rock her world.’”

He didn’t answer.

Luciano came with our desserts. “The bomboloni for signorina, the cheesecake for signore.”

“Thank you so much,” I said sweetly. He left. “Anything to say, Alexander? You made a pass at a woman and then called me as your B-list fuck. Why would you do that? You were going to cheat on me!” My voice may have risen a teeny bit.

“Look,” he said, glancing around, his hands up in the universal male sign for don’t make this a big deal, you hysterical female. “We never said we were exclusive.”

“What? We were exclusive! We’ve been dating for two years! We spend holidays together!”

“Calm down,” he said.

“How dare you tell me to calm down!” But yes, people were staring.

“I never said we were exclusive,” he repeated through gritted teeth.

“What does that mean? You get to sleep with other women?”

“Yes.”

The bald-faced admission was like a bucket of ice water. “Do I need to get tested?” I hissed. Thank God we’d always used condoms and the Pill. But I did. I’d need to get tested. Good God!

“Look.” He glanced around. “It’s not like I’m promiscuous, okay? I’m not on Tinder. But yes, I have two other relationships.”

“What?” There was the screeching again. Luciano was huddled with the maître d’ in the front, casting us concerned looks, so I lowered my voice. “Explain yourself.”

He looked at the restaurant ceiling, clearly aggrieved. “There’s Toni in San Diego and Paige in North Carolina. I’ve been seeing Toni for four years, Paige for three.”

“And me for two.”

“Yes.”

“So I’m the other woman?”

“No, no. Well . . . yes, I guess so. I don’t see it that way.”

“How do they see it?”

“They don’t know about you. Why would I tell them, right? When I’m in San Diego, I see Toni. When I’m down south, I see Paige. But mostly, there’s you, babe.”

“Do not call me babe. Ever again.”

“Listen, Sadie. You’re my favorite,” he said, leaning forward with a smile.

“I proposed to you,” I hissed.

“And when I get married, you’ll probably be my first choice. You know. When I’m ready.”