Eva has what she has—a mom who truly loves her—and I won’t feel guilty, I refuse to feel guilty, for being who I am.
Out of the shower, I blow my hair dry, smoothing it with a laminate-style polish, and go to my closet to find something else that might work for tonight, something not so cocktailish but still pretty, something that would please my fashion-conscious Eva, and I settle on a long dark brown suede skirt and a chocolate silk-and-cash mere-blend turtleneck. With my hair loose and brown boots, I think I look okay.
Eva knocks on my door before sticking her head inside my room. “You’re not wearing my dress!” she protests.
“It’s too summery,” I answer, even as I gesture to the skirt and sweater. “But what do you think of this as a backup? It’s a skirt, and it’s dressy.”
She studies me for a long moment before nodding and breaking into a smile. “No. It’s good. Actually it’s better than the red dress. You’re right. You don’t want to seem like you’re trying too hard.” With a blown kiss, she dances out again.
I turn to the mirror just in time to catch sight of my expression, and I look so startled, so confused, I burst out laughing.
Sometimes I don’t know who is in charge here. Don’t know who is raising whom.
The doorbell rings at seven-fifteen, and Eva rushes to the door before I can get there. “Hello,” I hear her say in her most grown-up voice, “I am Eva Zinsser, please come in.”
“Luke Flynn,” I hear him answer. “Pleasure to meet you.”
I come around the corner in time to watch Luke shake hands with Eva. Luke is so comfortable chatting with Eva that neither sees me there watching them.
Eva’s cheeks glow dusky pink as she looks up at Luke. He’s been here maybe two minutes and she’s already smitten. I’m smitten, too. I knew I liked him, but it wasn’t until I saw him making my daughter smile that I realized how much I like him.
How much I want him to fit in.
How much I want this to work.
My throat squeezes closed, and an intense pressure fills my chest. It all aches so much that I inadvertently make a sound. Luke hears, lifts his head, and looks at me.
The fire’s still there in his blue eyes, but it’s a fire I crave. “Hi,” I say shyly, my voice strangely faint.
“Hi,” he answers with a smile.
“He brought flowers and wine,” Eva says, “and sparkling apple cider for me!”
My gaze still holds his. “That’s very nice of you.”
His grin deepens, fine lines etching at the corners of his eyes. My belly flips over. My knees knock. When am I going to sleep with this man?
Eva leads us into the kitchen, and while he opens the sparkling cider I rummage in a drawer for the corkscrew.
“Do you play any sports?” Luke asks Eva, filling a wineglass with sparkling cider for her.
“I did last year, and I might play basketball again,” she answers. “But I decided against soccer this year.”
“Why?”
“It wasn’t my thing.”
I take a vase from her and fill it with water, and as I do, Luke’s eyes meet mine above Eva’s head, and the look is so warm, so intimate, I nearly drop the vase with the flowers.
Wow, I think, walking on shaky legs into the living room to place the flowers on the coffee table. Wow.
Luke opens the wine, and I pull the lasagna from the oven and pop in the bread. The cake’s already cooling, and the salad has been made but not dressed. Things, I think, are going a little too well.
But what’s funny is that it continues like this all night. Eva and Luke act like old friends, and I’m comfortable, and laughing, and cracking up at Luke’s jokes, even his very bad jokes.
And while I’d never admit this to anyone, it’s really nice to see a gorgeous man in my house, sitting at my dining table. It makes the fizzy good feeling in me feel even more legit. I’m happy hanging out with my close friends, but I’d forgotten what the company of the right man can do. Forgotten that intensely female sensation, of being smooth and soft and real.
After dinner, I clear dishes and Eva runs to grab the game of Scrabble. She loves Scrabble, and maybe it’s because she’s scarily good. In the last year, Eva’s begun giving me a run for my money, and I’m a savvy Scrabble player.
“What do you think?” I ask, turning around in the kitchen to find Luke there with the place mats and napkins from the table. “Scrabble okay or do you want to duck out now?”
“Why would I want to duck out now?” he asks.
“You might find us a tad overwhelming.”
“You’re not reading my mind very well.”
“No?”
“Look at me and try again.”
I have to force myself to look at him, to meet his fierce light blue eyes, and when I do, I flush but don’t look away.
I can’t.
There’s so much life in his eyes, so much fire and intelligence and emotion. It’s almost too much. He’s strong and intense.
I take a short, quick breath, knowing I’ve sworn off men, sworn off all involvement, all hoping, wishing, dreaming, and yet with one look Luke’s made me rethink my decision. With one look he’s broken my heart wide open.
I’d vowed I would never do that romantic fall-in-love-and-be-disappointed thing again, yet as I stand, the kitchen counter against my back and a dish towel in my hand, I’m falling.
“Do I look bored?” he asks quietly.
I look into his eyes, and no, there is nothing bored there. Hungry, yes. Curious, yes. Bored, not at all. “No.”
“So why would you want to send me away?”
I don’t answer, as I feel as though I’m running, running from something so fierce, so frightening, and yet beautiful at the same time.
“Unless we’re back to the whole chicken thing,” he answers.
The corners of my mouth curl up. He smiles, too, creases fanning from his eyes.
I drop the dish towel on the counter. “All right, you want the truth? I am chicken. I should be chicken. You’re everything I’ve avoided for the past ten years, and yet after two dates here you are, in my house, having dinner with Eva and me. She obviously already adores you . . . not that she’d be a hard sell at this point, while I’m—” I swallow, break off, try to find the right words, and I can’t. I don’t know how to make him understand how momentous this is for me, and how frightening. I’m so protective of Eva, so protective of our little world, and I’d rather be alone forever than have anything hurt her.
“You’re what?” he prompts.
“I guess I’m still trying to understand just what is happening here.”
He leans against the counter. “What do you think is happening?”
“Girl stuff. Boy stuff. The usual.”
Luke laughs that husky laugh of his and leans back, triceps hardening beneath his shirt. “I’m thirty-eight. You’re thirty-six. I’d hardly call this boy and girl stuff.”
He’s not being as reassuring as he could be.
Eva, in the meantime, has finished setting up the Scrabble game, and she shouts to us in the kitchen, “Are we playing or not?”
“I am,” Luke calls back, giving me a rather pointed look.
Isn’t he the confident one? I respond in an equally mature fashion. I stick out my tongue. “I’m playing, too,” I answer, grabbing my wineglass and heading back to the table. “And watch out. Tonight I’m going to show you how the game is played.”
I’m in for a surprise. Luke’s a master of the game, jumping out far in front of us by his fourth turn. “You’re cheating,” I mutter when Eva disappears to use the bathroom.
“I’m not cheating.” His eyes spark. “I’m just better than you are.”
I lean on the table. “How’s that for modesty?”
“It’s not, and that’s because false modesty is the worst sin of all.”
“Says who?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “I just made that up.”
I laugh and
I feel warm, and as we sit there smiling at each other, my heart does yet another sharp, painful free fall.
Eva returns, and we resume playing. We’re still engrossed in the game an hour later when the doorbell rings. I get up to answer it, and it’s not until I’ve opened the door that I remember Tiana was supposed to be up here this weekend but she’s arrived early. I hadn’t expected to see her until Saturday.
“Tits!” I cry, flinging my arms around her. “You’re really here.”
“I told you I was coming.” She hugs me back before drawing away to peel off her coat and drop it on the antique painted chest in the hall. “I got lost—”
“You drove here?”
“No, I had a driver, but he was lost. Saw a lot of your neighborhood. Very nice. Very New England–ish. I can’t believe all the big homes.”
“Aunt T?” Eva says, coming around the corner and leaping into Tiana’s arms. She hugs Tiana hard, grinning up at her delightedly. “You’re here!”