No, not his wife. Hisex-wife. Bonnie wasn’t his anymore.
It was after three in the morning when I got back to my apartment. I didn’t know if Bonnie was awake. In fact, I hoped she was resting well. I hated to think she was losing sleep over that asshole.
But I didn’t want her to lose sleep over me either.
So I pulled up our text thread and started to type, knowing it was a terrible idea.
But I couldn’t stand to think that she’d assumed I was flirting with those moms this morning. That I was someone who would kiss her one night and pretend it never happened the next. She was the only woman I was thinking about—couldn’t fucking stop thinking about. And I didn’t want her to wonder.
It wasn’t that I owed Bonnie anything. We were ... I didn’t know what, beyond a starry night sky, a stolen ride, and a handful of possibility.
But I knew I didn’t want to be just some guy she’d kissed once.
So, yeah. Maybe I didn’t know exactly who I wanted to be to her, but I knew it was more than that.
ten
BONNIE
I’d spent the last ten minutes lurking in my living room and glancing out the front window. Jack was due to arrive any moment, and I was telling myself to just be cool about this.
It was worth a try, but so far, no such luck.
When I’d woken up to a text message from Jack, I’d stared at it for a few minutes, not really believing it.
Jack: The weather should be nice tomorrow. I’m thinking about taking a ride on the parkway. Would you like to come with me?
The parkway was the Blue Ridge Parkway, a stretch of road that wound through the nearby mountains, complete with gorgeous views and scenic overlooks. You could ride all the way into Virginia if you really wanted to. Since it was very early October, the leaves hadn’t hit their peak yet. So the route wouldn’t be as busy as it could be.
Despite the invitation and the fizzy, anticipatory feelings it inspired, I hadn’t replied right away. Yes, it would be nice to spend more time with Jack. I liked him. He made me feel unsteady, but in a good way. One that made me a little brave.But after the kiss, I didn’t know what to think. Was he interested in pursuing something with me? I didn’t know how to feel about that possibility.
I was barely divorced, and I knew what people would say if I started upsomethingwith Jack or anyone. Besides, I didn’t know if I was ready for anything like that anyway. I’d told Jack that I liked him because he didn’t treat me the way everyone else did—like I was broken. But the truth was, I felt a little broken. Like my old self was buried in quicksand, and every time I tried to dig her out, I lost another inch.
I still had a hard time believing Jack wanted anything to do with me. I was a thirty-one-year-old divorcée with anxiety. A boring art teacher who stole rabbits and went to bowling league. That felt like more trouble than Jack was used to. Or like the benefits didn’t outweigh the effort. Or somewhere in between the two.
Either way, I was skeptical.
I’d seen all those women surrounding him after the soccer game. All the smiles and flirting. I could easily imagine the attention he received at Magnolia’s every night, too.
So why wouldhewant to takemeout on his motorcycle?
I still didn’t have an answer after a cup of coffee and two strawberry Pop-Tarts, but it seemed rude to wait so long to respond.
Me: Sure. That sounds like fun.
His reply came pretty quickly, telling me he’d pick me up at 11:00 a.m. and not to worry about the helmet. He had one for me.
I wondered at that a little, but I was attempting to be cool, so I didn’t ask.
Instead, I was pacing in front of my window and gnawing a raw spot on the inside of my cheek.
Suddenly, it was 11:02, and Jack was pulling into my driveway. My heart rate kicked up several notches, and it was time for my antiperspirant to go to work.
Jack looked effortlessly cool and so handsome. His dark hair was a little disheveled from the helmet, but it suited him. Overly polished and put together would have clashed with his general vibe. He wore his leather jacket and dark boots with light-wash, well-worn jeans. The thought of pressing my body up to his for the next hour or so made heat rise in my cheeks.
I glanced down at my thick cardigan and jeans and felt another jolt of nerves in my midsection.
“It’s not a date,” I mumbled as I hurried to slide my ID and some cash into my pocket. “Be. Cool.”
