For the next hour, I tried to draw her out about her life. We spoke about her family, about her plans to join the FBI – the usual ‘getting to know you’ material. Finally, I decided to prod her about Dan.
“Care to talk about your husband?” I asked, wanting to get her to talk about Dan. “I see you have a gold wedding band on your middle finger. Is that his?”
She held out her hand and looked at the ring. “Yes. I know I should take it off. It’s been almost a year, but I think I’ll wait until after the year’s up.”
She said nothing for a moment, and then shook her head thoughtfully. “Dan and I met when I started college and he was at a party with some old friends. He enlisted and we started dating when he came back from his first deployment. We decided to get married after he redeployed and was doing some pretty dangerous stuff with special operations forces.”
“Just in case?”
She nodded, her face flushed. I could tell she had a hard time talking about Dan.
“He loved what he did, but I felt incredibly afraid he’d die and we’d have never had a chance at married life. So we made plans, had everything in place, and he came home on leave and we were married. Within three months, he was dead and I was a widow.” She smiled a sad smile.
I reached out and took her hand. “What was he like?” I asked, trying to keep my tone respectful. “If you don’t mind talking about him.”
Then she told me about Dan. Stuff I’d gleaned from reading various comments and memories on his obituary. It made me feel even more guilty to be sitting there, deceiving her.
How could I get out of this lie? Everything I did would end in disaster. If I confessed now, she’d be hurt and angry. If I did later, after we had sex, she’d be even more hurt and angry.
“So what about you?” she asked. “Ever married?”
I sat up straighter. “Nope,” I said, not wanting to get into my relationship with Sue. “I used to think I was the marrying type, but not anymore. You have your sad story? I have mine. Besides, I saw my parents get divorced and how nasty it was between them. Don’t plan on getting married or divorced any time soon, if ever.”
She frowned. “What about family? Don’t you want kids?”
“My whole life is my business. I wouldn’t want to have kids only to neglect them and never see them the way my father was. The only real father figure in my life was my uncle and he was great but not a real substitute.”
“What did your father do exactly?”
I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I took a sip of my beer. I told her as much as I wanted about my father and his business, but I wanted to turn the discussion away from me and back onto her.
The food came and we ate with gusto, all the while exchanging little tidbits about our families. I learned more about her father, who sounded like a real stand-up guy – the kind of man I would like as a father. Solid. Strong. Upstanding. Ethical. It was something we had in common – fathers who had died too soon. I felt a sympathy for her that I didn’t feel for many people. She’d lost so much.
We both had.
When we finished our food, I turned to her. “Care for a walk along the beach?”
She hesitated but then smiled. “Sure.”
I paid the bill, refusing to let her chip in. “No way, sha,” I said laying on the Cajun charm. “This is my treat. Maybe you can cook me a meal some day when you’re back in Manhattan.”
“I make a mean linguine agli scampi,” she said.
I did want to see her again, back in New York. I wanted to see her every night. But I hadn’t thought it through. I didn’t want to think it through, because if I did, I knew it would end badly.
Then we walked along the boardwalk that followed the beach, and even took off our shoes and went into the water for a dip, laughing like we were two kids on vacation. It was great, I felt completely comfortable with her, no awkward moments.
I could get used to her.
I pulled her into my arms and we stood together, watching the surf, enjoying the moment. I kissed her, softly. Gently. Now was the moment. I had to make a decision.
I could drive her back to her place and say goodbye.
Or I could jump in with both feet.
The feel of her soft curves against me decided for me.
CHAPTER TEN