Sure. Hit me up sometime.
“You’re smiling again.”
She blinked, Laura’s words bringing her back to the present. She tried to cover. “It’s a lovely evening, my patio is weed free, and these piña coladas are delicious. Why wouldn’t I be smiling?”
“Indeed.” Laura grabbed her drink and took a sip. “I’m still waiting, by the way.”
“For what?”
“Details!” She rolled her eyes. “It’s like yanking out a molar getting info from you.”
While keeping her friend hanging had its fun side, she didn’t want to irritate Laura too much. “I will, after you answer one question.”
“Go.”
“Did you set us up?”
Laura looked genuinely surprised. “No. Promise. I can show the messages on the group where everyone cancelled. And I couldn’t have made Farah’s game go into extra innings.”
“I’m glad she won.” Amy twirled the little pink umbrella in her drink. She’d been surprised to find them in her junk drawer. They were left over from two years ago when she decorated her classroom in a Hawaiian theme for the last week of school. “It’s just hard to believe it was a coincidence.”
“Because he’s perfect?”
Now it was her turn to roll her eyes. “No.” Although he seemed pretty close to perfection. She hadn’t noticed in the tavern, but when they were in the coffee shop and sitting at a smaller table, she could smell the woodsy scent of his cologne and see the smoky gray of his eyes. If he was this good-looking at fifty-seven, she could only imagine how handsome he’d been in his younger years.
“It’s okay, Amy. You can admit I was right about Single Mingles.” Laura took a slurp.
“You were sort of right.” She turned serious. “I did have a good time with him. He’s easy to talk to.”
“And easy on the eyes. You should see his LinkedIn profile picture.”
“Looks aren’t everything.” Daniel had been stunning in his twenties. Black curls he’d kept longer than his chin, pale-green eyes that sparkled when he laughed, and a lean physique that had made her sixteen-year-old knees turn to goo the first time they met. No, looks meant nothing when the person who had them was a raging alcoholic, a selfish husband, and a deadbeat dad.
“When are you seeing him again?”
“Max?” She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Did he text you?” she asked.
Amy nodded. “Three times.” The other two had been to wish her a good day. So far, no mention of a second date—er, meeting.
Laura took her white umbrella out of her drink and waved it. “I surrender. You’re obviously not going to tell me what happened.” She pouted. “Even though I’m the one who made it happen.”
“I’m sorry. I was just yanking your chain a little.”
“I know, but this is serious. You haven’t been on a date—”
“—it wasn’t a date—”
“—since your divorce. As your best friend, of course I’m interested.”
“It wasn’t a date,” Amy said again, more firmly this time. “And nothing happened. We went to Madeline’s for coffee after karaoke started.”
“You’ve got to be the only person I know who doesn’t like karaoke.”
If Laura had experienced a drunk Daniel making a fool of himself on karaoke night—not once, but four times—she’d understand. Amy had to take some responsibility for believing him when he said he wouldn’t drink or misbehave again. But his words were hollow. First there would be only one or two drinks. That turned into several, and by the time he got on stage—after Amy begged him not to—he could barely say a coherent word, much less sing a song.
They’d even gone to other karaoke nights at different bars, and he’d embarrassed her and himself at each one. The last straw had been the final night, five years into their marriage and after two years of supposed sobriety. He’d been so drunk he started cursing at everyone, including her. She’d left him there that night and found out later the owner had to call a cab to take him home. There was some guilt over that, but not much.
