The next day, I invited Scott to the house for coffee and a chat. As we sat at the dining table, sipping at our mugs, we talked about everything from the success of my interview to the effect that wearing that dress had on Noah. Somehow, we landed on Scott’s recent string of blind dates set up by Noah.
“What didn’t you like about her?” I asked as I subconsciously stirred my black coffee. The stuff burned my stomach, but all this time of weight obsession made me have an aversion to anything—cream, sugar, even milk—in my coffee.
“I don’t know,” Scott confessed. “I just didn’t feel anything between us. There was no…spark there.”
I took a sip of coffee.
“Well, if the spark isn’t there, then it isn’t there.”
“The problem is that she was the last e
