Chapter 2

Steam curled up from the cups, blurring his sharp, knowing eyes.

He dropped a pinch of loose-leaf Earl Grey into the cast-iron teapot, poured the water from high and served it low, every movement smooth and practiced.

I forced a smile. "It's nothing, Uncle George. Work's just been a little exhausting lately."

Uncle George let out a soft laugh, fine wrinkles fanning out at the corners of his eyes.

He poured a cup and nudged it toward me with the tea tongs.

"Work? If it were work, you wouldn't be checking your phone every two minutes. And every time you look at it, your forehead scrunches up tight enough to crush a fly."

He lifted his own cup and took a small sip, and his gaze finally settled on my face.

"Fight with Summer?"

He had hit it dead on. I felt a little awkward, but all the grievances I'd been holding in seemed to have finally found a way out.

I picked up the cup and downed it in one gulp without caring how hot it was.

"Uncle George, tell me. What do women actually think?"

The complaints just spilled out of me.

I told him every bit of the mess from the past few weeks, holding nothing back.

How she said she didn't want a gift and then got angry, how she said she didn't need me to pick her up and then gave me the cold shoulder, and now this endless silent treatment.

"I do everything she says. I respect her decisions. So what gives her the right to freeze me out like this?"

The more I talked, the angrier I got, my fingers drumming hard against the table.

Uncle George listened quietly and didn't interrupt.

Only after I had vented everything did he pick up the tea pitcher and refill my cup.

"You young people these days,"

Uncle George shook his head, a teasing note in his voice. "Always going on about 'respecting women' and 'boundaries.' Did all that schooling turn your brains to mush?"

I froze. "So respecting her is wrong now?"

Uncle George set down the teapot and leaned back slightly in his chair.

"Respect isn't wrong. But treating politeness like a royal decree and reserve like rejection? That's just stupid."

He pointed at the cup in front of me.

"When I poured your tea just now, you said, 'Don't trouble yourself, Uncle George,' but your hand pushed the cup toward me."

I was startled. I thought back, and he was right.

"That's called being polite," Uncle George said, cutting straight to the point. "A lot of what women do in relationships works the same way."

He narrowed his eyes a little and looked over at the lively poker table nearby.

"A lot of the time, when a woman says 'no,' she doesn't really mean no. She's waiting for you to prove you're going to do it anyway."

I couldn't make sense of it, and my brow furrowed even deeper.

"Uncle George, isn't that just being fake? Why can't she just say what she wants?"

Uncle George burst out laughing, so loudly that my uncle over at the poker table glanced our way.

"Fake? That's called charm. That's the art of push and pull!"

His laughter faded. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes turning serious.

"Remember this. What makes a woman happy is being pursued. But that doesn't mean cheap flirting. It means seeing through her front and walking straight toward her without hesitating."

He held up one finger.

"When you see a woman show these three signs, she's practically screaming at you inside: hurry up and come after me."

He had me completely hooked. I sat up straight, like a schoolkid waiting for the teacher to start the lesson.

"What three signs?"

Uncle George took his time pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He slid one out and held it under his nose, but didn't light it.

"The first sign is the most common one. She flatly refuses your kindness out loud, but her actions don't push it away at all."

He tapped the table with his finger, making a crisp sound.

"You said earlier that Summer thought the necklace was too expensive and told you not to buy it, so you just turned around and left?"

I nodded, feeling wronged. "Yeah. That necklace cost almost two thousand dollars. She usually hesitates forever over a hundred-dollar top. I figured she really didn't want to spend the money."

Uncle George shot me a look of pure exasperation.

"Sure, she didn't want to spend the money. But she also really wanted that necklace!"

He fiddled with the lighter in his hand and drifted into memory.

"Back when your Aunt Linda and I first got married, we were dirt poor."

"One winter, I picked up a construction job and made a little money. Walking past the department store, I spotted a red wool coat."

"That coat cost over three hundred dollars. That was more than half a month's wages for me back then."

"I gritted my teeth and bought it, then rushed home all excited to show your Aunt Linda."

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he got to this part.

"Guess what? Your Aunt Linda reacted exactly like Summer."

"One look at the price tag and her face went green. She pointed right at my nose and called me a spendthrift, said I was throwing our lives away, and insisted I take it back."

I was hanging on every word. "So did you return it?"

Uncle George gave a cold laugh. "If I'd actually returned it, the grass on my grave would be six feet tall by now!"

He paused, then went on.

"I watched her closely. She was cussing me out, but her eyes kept drifting back to that coat."

"I told her to try it on. She grumbled, 'Try what? Just take it back,' but she didn't dodge when I reached out."

"So I just draped the coat over her shoulders and did up the buttons for her."

"She was still muttering, 'It's ugly,' but then she turned around and went straight to the mirror, and stood there fixing the collar for ages."

He slapped his thigh to wrap it up.

"Get it now? That's what I mean by refusing out loud but not pushing it away."

"If she really hated the thing, or truly didn't want it, she'd resist physically, and hard."

"She'd shove you away, she'd dodge, she'd throw the thing on the floor."

"But if she just stands there and lets you put it around her neck, or drape it over her shoulders, that's a quiet yes!"

I stared at him, stunned, as the scene at the jewelry store came back to me.

When Summer said, "It's too expensive, don't buy it," she really hadn't pulled me away from the counter right away.

Her eyes had stayed on that display case for several more seconds.

And me, like a complete idiot, I'd said, "Okay then, let's go get something to eat," and dragged her out.

No wonder she'd looked at me like I was a fool.

Seeing the regret on my face, Uncle George kept breaking it down.

"Why do women act so contradictory?"

"Because they need a way to save face. They need someone to put the blame on."

"Deep down they want it, but they don't want to carry the guilt of being 'vain' or 'wasting money.'"