“Dorsey. What we have is great for a night at Hotel Washington, but what about the light? What about at big corporate events when I drink the wrong wine, or family reunions where you don’t Electric Slide? Those little things build. I’m not from your world—”

“I know, but I can make you a part of it. I could get you an apartment, some place hidden away, but tasteful. Maybe something in Georgetown.”

“And would you still live in Philly, while I’m in Georgetown?” Liza folded her arms.

“Of course, Philadelphia is my home. But I want to give you some peace, Liza.” Dorsey paced. “Like you mentioned your relationship was fraught with your mother. Maybe we could minimize our interactions? I can see how it can be too much,” he stated.

Too much? Liza wondered if she should let him continue to plan out his secret fantasy, but it was all she could do to not grab a paperweight from the table and throw it at his head.

“Dorsey.” Liza’s voice was calm in contrast to the absolute riot inside her. “I am so sorry that I gave you the indication that I wanted any part in your Pretty Woman fantasy. The other night was fun, but it needs to stop right there. You’re probably the last man I would ever have a serious relationship with, if that’s even what you’re proposing. It sounds like you’re trying to set me up as your permanent side chick before you even have a main chick?”

“Side chick? Liza—”

“As in your woman on the side. The one you give head to in a town car while your sister visits with Jennifer.”

“No. No, Liza, Jennifer and I are nothing—”

“You have me all wrong if you think I would hop at the chance for a half-life with you. You can take your cocaine intensity and see yourself out,” Liza said coolly.

Dorsey’s face twisted, then darkened. “Is that it, then? I texted you last night to tell you I had a great time, and you sent me three eggplant emojis and a peach! What the fuck happened since then? Are you telling me I was alone in what I felt? Give me some reason why suddenly today you don’t want anything to do with me.”

“Excuse me, but it sounds like you want nothing to do with me. Saying we should minimize my interaction with my mother because she’s too much!”

“No. You said she was too much at the fiftieth anniversary gala, after she told everyone that her grandkids would have ‘good hair.’ ”