What Lovers Do

He shakes his head. “You have no fucking idea. Millie single-handedly ruined countless relationships with friends of ours and alienated so many family members because she is a walking sales machine.”

“Some people do quite well. She’s a natural.”

“She’s a disaster. And stupid. God, so incredibly stupid. She had a car, a perfectly good car, a nice car, an expensive car that was paid off. But her big corporate employer convinced her to take a new car. A bonus with all the strings attached. As long as she met her sales quota each month, she didn’t have to pay anything for the car. But … the months she didn’t meet it, she had to pay over eight hundred dollars for that month’s car payment. Which … fine. I get it. For someone who doesn’t have a car and who’s really good at their job, then it appears to be a good deal. Sadly, Millie is awesome at her job, except when she’s not. And believe me, there’s nothing worse than someone trying to meet a quota with only a few days left to do it. She became rabid. Relentless. No one was safe from her high-pressure sales, not even the person at the grocery store bagging our groceries. You know those ‘no soliciting’ signs? She thinks they don’t apply to her.”

Wow. Shep’s had a lot on his chest. He’s taking a hatchet to the barrier of Shep World, and I don’t know how I feel about that. There are a million ways I could respond. I could play devil’s advocate. I could pile on and wholeheartedly agree that Millie is, in fact, incorrigible. But I’d rather not talk about Millie. I like the version of Shep that doesn’t involve him thinking about Millie because smoke shoots out of his nostrils, and it’s not a pretty sight.

I’m stuck. Do I respond? Does he want me to respond? Do I change the subject? Then, will he think I’m being insensitive to his feelings?

“My new best friend sent me flowers today.” Positive. I stick to the positive stuff.

It takes Shep a few seconds to adjust to my rapid change in subject. When his smile comes back to life, the tension melts from his shoulders and that deep line along the bridge of his nose disappears. “I bet you were really appreciative of it. Not irrationally mad or anything like that.”

I spin one-eighty and take off toward the dogs and the little pond, an extra bounce in each of my steps. “I would never act irrationally.”

“I have a new friend too.”

“Oh yeah?” I grin, but he can’t see it because I stay several steps in front of him.

“Yeah. I’m thinking of inviting her to have dinner with me and my parents this Friday. What do you think she’ll say?”

“She’ll say no. Want to know why? Because your friend isn’t real.”

“She feels real. She’s beautiful. She’s smart. She’s funny and really imaginative. She’s quite possibly the best golfer I’ve ever met. And she indulges me in random conversation at odd hours of the day and night.”

“She sounds amazing.” I toss him a flirty glance over my shoulder.

“She’s … something. That’s for sure.”

I turn and he stops, eyeing me with curiosity. “You weren’t sure you wanted your parents to know about our trip to Sedona, but now you want me to meet them?”

He shrugs. “Just testing the waters.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “I can’t meet your parents,” I say with as much regret to my voice as I can possibly infuse. Right guy. Wrong time.

“Because I can’t really be in your life?”

Scrunching my nose, I nod.

“Just give me this much honesty. Are you married with kids? Is it a bad marriage? Am I an escape from a bad marriage?”

“No. I’ve told you that.” I give him a sincere smile. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Have you escaped from prison?”

With my lips pressed together, I give him a slow nod. “Nailed it. You always nail the obvious. Am I that transparent?”

He shakes his head, fighting a grin. “What about this … what if I want my parents to know that I’m not sulking after a bad divorce? What if I want them to see that I’m meeting people, even if the people I’m meeting are just new friends?”

My eyes narrow a fraction. “I’m listening.”

“The story is that we are friends. That doesn’t change. I go to dinner with my parents and you’re there. Total happenstance.”

“My date for the night stands me up, and you insist I eat with you and your parents?”

He nods. “Sure. Have you been stood up a lot?”

Shep earns a firm scowl from me. “No. I’m just putting together a scenario for why I would be at a restaurant by myself.”

“And you’re not worried that my parents’ first impression of you will be you getting stood up?”

I tilt my head and narrow my eyes, trying to read him. “Are you worried about that being their first impression of me? Would that embarrass you?”