“We dated for a year or so. A few years back. We broke up when she went to DC.”

“You didn’t want to go with?”

“I wasn’t invited.”

It was Oliver’s turn to utter a telling ah.

“You want her back?” Scott asked with his usual bluntness.

Clarke popped the top off another beer, though he didn’t take a drink. “I don’t. In fact, this whole fake-engagement thing started as sort of a childish need to tell her she was wrong about me.”

Oliver shook his head. “Not following.”

Clarke sighed and leaned against the wet bar, facing his friends. “When Liz left, it wasn’t acrimonious, necessarily, but it didn’t exactly feel good, either. She’s always been very career focused, goal-oriented. The type of woman who’s got her life plan outlined in an Excel spreadsheet. She made it clear that I hadn’t made the necessary growth to warrant a spot in that plan.”

“What sort of growth?”

Clarke shrugged. “You know. Not marriage material.”

“And you thought you were?”

“I thought I deserved a chance to try. Back then, at least. Now, I know I’m not. Now, I know she had it right the first time.”

“Bullshit. You’re a good guy.”

“I know,” Clarke said with a smile, appreciating the compliment. “But I’m also sort of a man whore.”

“We’re all man whores until we’re not,” Scott said. “I had a different woman in every city and never promised a single one that I’d call again.”

“What changed?”

Scott looked at him like he was an imbecile. “Claire.”

“Right. Of course. But how did you… why did you—”

“I didn’t even really think about it,” Scott said, preempting Clarke’s question. “I just woke up one day and felt that ending that wild-oats part of my life wouldn’t be a sacrifice in the least. Given the choice between sleeping with a dozen different women or sleeping with the woman for the rest of my life? No-brainer.”

“Why, are you thinking you might be the marrying type after all?” Oliver asked Clarke curiously.

“Maybe,” Clarke admitted, somewhat surprised to hear himself say it out loud and even more surprised to realize that it didn’t fill him with immediate terror. Maybe it was just getting older, but the thought of coming home to someone—the same someone—sounded a lot more appealing than it ever had before.

“So this Elizabeth woman. You think she’s changed her mind about you as husband potential?”

“What? Oh,” he said, shifting his thoughts back to Liz. “I don’t know. I guess. She came to my office on Wednesday and made some definite noise about wanting to get back together.”

Scott whistled. “That’s ballsy. As far she knows, you’re engaged.”

“Yeah, well, I think she’s got a pretty good sense of just how engaged Dree and I really are.”