Pause (Larsen Bros)

I click my tongue. “Yeah. That would be something. Imagine the size of the words we could use then.”

“We should start a podcast. Just us dissecting people’s love lives and general life choices.”

“Like everyone could benefit from our wisdom?” I ask.

“Exactly.”

“God help everyone,” I laugh, and she laughs, and it’s all so good. Just chatting with a friend. Feeling that connection with the sisterhood and all. Clem and Tessa had asked me to accompany them to a movie sometime, but I don’t know. Something held me back. As much as I liked them, I didn’t want to rush into anything.

“Though getting back to the subject of woman as breeder and child wrangler.” She pauses to clear her throat. “You do want to have children and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“There is nothing wrong with that. It’s just not all I want, you know?”

“So what do you want?” she asks, head cocked.

At this, I’m laughing again. “Oh, boy. After all of my brave words, I don’t actually know. I’m still figuring it out.”

“It’s not over until it’s over. You have time. There’s no rush.”

“Thanks.” I wrinkle my nose, thinking deep thoughts. “Do you think I’m rushing into this, though?”

“This as in Leif?”

“Yeah. Seeing someone so soon after the divorce has given me pause. I’m sure certain people would be horrified.”

“Fuck them. No, I don’t think you’re moving too fast,” she says. “It’s been months since you and that cheating fool were together as an actual couple. Don’t beat yourself up over the imagined opinions of people who don’t matter.”

I sigh. “You’re right.”

“Furthermore, I think the universe sends us opportunities on its own timeline and we can either take the chance and make it work or not,” she says. “There’s never a perfect time to meet someone. There’s always something going on or some issue in your head you should be dealing with on your own. But life keeps right on happening.”

“God, you’re wise.”

“About some things, maybe.” She narrows her eyes. “Here’s a question for you . . . do you still believe in love?”

“That sounds like the start of a Cher song.”

She snorts. “Don’t go there.”

In an act of pure avoidance, I turn the question back on her. “Tell me, Briar, do you believe in love?”

“Well, the bartender I may have mentioned a time or two certainly has given a lot of time and attention to give me. A lot of physical affection. We definitely have chemistry. It could certainly develop into something.” Her tongue plays behind her cheek. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been in love exactly. Not the kind of true, enduring, and abiding love we all hear about and they keep putting into songs and books and movies. The fact is, I was focusing on my studies and now my main priority is my job. But that doesn’t mean someone couldn’t come along and encourage me to make room for more. You never know.”

“It’s up to fate, then.”

“I think it is.”

“Romantic love is nice and all, but it’s not like we don’t have lots of other types of love in our life.”

“This is also true,” she says.

“Friendship, family, et cetera.”

“They can all be hugely important and rewarding.”

“Speaking of which, I was thinking a trip to New York around Christmastime would be nice. We could freeze our ass off in the big city.”

“Really?” Her eyes light up. “I highly recommend you write that into your calendar. I would love to have you come visit. Not sure I’ll be making it home again this year.”

“It’s decided then. We can shop and drink and so on.”

“We sure can. I’ll be looking forward to it.” She grins. “You never did answer my question, though.”

“What question?”

“Do you still believe in love?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “I think relationships are hard and it’s easy to coast along on the basis of not causing waves. In which case, you ultimately just sort of drift apart.”

Her brows rise. “Nice boating analogies.”

“I’m probably not the best person to talk to about love just yet.”

“But what about the initial rush of falling in love,” she asks. “Do you still believe in that?”

I stick out my tongue. “I don’t know.”

“Do me a favor and ask Leif what he thinks.”

“What?” I semi screech.

“Just do it.” And the woman hangs up on me.

I set my cell down on the dining room table and take a breath. “Hell no. That’s never going to happen.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

“I don’t think this is traditionally how it’s meant to be done.”

“Anna, baby,” he says, gesturing with his hand while doing an impressive thrust of the hips. Very Elvis. “Give me more. I don’t dance for free.”

Since I left my shoes at the door and I’ve already thrown my white embroidered button-down at him, I stand and shimmy out of my dark blue jeans. Those I kind of kick across the floor in his general direction since it would be dangerous to throw them if the belt buckle caught him in the face. I like his face how it is just fine.