I pull the Phish Food out of the bag with a broad smile. Winter’s mouth drops open, then her entire face lights up.

If I’m really thinking about it, why the hell did I do this? Why did I have Winter’s favorite ice cream delivered to a dive bar, on our non-date she had to convince me to go on? Then her smile digs deeper, stretching into a grin. And this, this smile and the look of sheer happiness because I’ve pleased her, or noticed her, or listened to her is why.

But why did I want to make her happy so badly?

Don’t care. Because I’m happy. Happy that she’s happy. See, still just a selfish prick.

“I cannot believe you had my favorite ice cream delivered to Fat Billie’s.” She laughs, immediately grabbing a spoon. “You’re just the right amount of charming, aren’t you? I mean, you’re mostly an asshole, but there’s this ribbon of allure in everything you do. Just enough to keep them enamored.”

“Who’s them?” I take a sip of my whiskey.

“The women. All of them. The droves of women who swoon over you. You know who I’m talking about. You spend your life disregarding them… Until you don’t. Then you do shit like this, and they ignore all the terrible ways you’ve treated them and remain enamored.”

“It’s the dose that makes the poison, Grimm.” I pluck a fry with nothing on it from the edge of the plate of slop and pop it into my mouth. “Are you saying you’re enamored?”

“I’m saying I recognize your appeal.”

“A simple thank you would suffice.”

Winter’s tongue swipes across her bottom lip before she smiles. “Thank you, Aleck.”

Selfishly, I absorb all the happiness in her expression and store it in my memory. I’ll pull it out the next time I realize just how ugly life is. I’ll remember there are people out there who can make me feel something other than indifference. Maybe the memory will even help me sleep when my other memories won’t.

“You’re welcome, Winter.”

“I bet you’re the grand gesture type. I bet you’ve even bought out an art gallery for the night, so you and your date can eat dinner privately amongst genuine beauty. Or something ridiculously romantic like that.” She laughs, loading another spoonful of half-melted ice cream—thanks a lot, Billie.

“I’m flattered by your faith in me, but I don’t date.”

Her brows dip and her eyes narrow. “Never?”

“Never.”

Winter looks genuinely perplexed. I don’t know why. Two days ago, she thought I was the devil blessed with a chronic erection.

She scrapes a fried pickle through her ice cream, and I nearly heave, but oddly find it quirky because it’s such a Winter thing to do.

“Don’t you get lonely? Sleeping next to someone you trust can be so comforting.”

“You find me someone I can trust, and I’ll consider amending my rule. Until then, I won’t sleep next to anyone.”

“Okay, I’m not completely shocked you don’t date. Eternal playboy and all that. But you don’t sleep next to anyone either? What happens with the women you bring home?”