I laugh out loud in the dark of my bedroom, then immediately feel ridiculous about it. But no one is here to see me, and I’m really surprised that he knew.
Me: You are so full of yourself.
Mark: Am I wrong?
I stare at the ceiling for a second, thinking of all the ways this could go sideways. How many people could get hurt if I give him my heart, and this doesn’t work out.
Me: No.
Mark: I knew it. Tell me what you're thinking about.
Me: Actually, something happened tonight that I wanted to tell you about.
Mark: Good something or bad something?
Me: It’s an interesting something, I’m not sure yet whether it’s good or bad. Cora asked me if we were dating.
There's a pause. Longer than his usual response time, and I feel the familiar pull of anxiety in my chest before his reply comes through.
Mark: What did you tell her?
Me: I told her you were my friend. She accepted that a lot more easily than I expected.
Mark: Smart kid.
Me: She really is.
I hesitate, then keep going, because I've already started and there's no graceful way to stop now.
Me: She also said she wants to meet you. Officially.
Another pause. I'm getting better at reading what those pauses might mean. This one doesn't feel like hesitation, it feels like he's choosing his words carefully, and I respect that.
Mark: I want that too. Whenever you're ready for it. No pressure at all. When she wants it, and it’s okay for you, we’ll make sure it happens.
I read it twice, and then one more time. This man is going to be the death of me. The way he constantly worries about my daughter, and me. I’m not used to it, but I love it. I hate comparing the two of them, but he’s blowing my marriage to Derek out of the water. Derek never waited for anything. He always had somewhere else to be, and something that was way more important than us.
Me: She also said you were cute, for the record.
Mark: Cora has excellent taste. I've always said so.
Me: LMAO! You've never met her.
Mark: And yet I stand by it. That girl knows what the fuck she’s talking about.
I'm smiling at my phone like a teenager, tucked under my covers in the dark, and I cannot bring myself to feel embarrassed about it. This is what happy feels like. I didn’t recognize it at first because I'd almost forgotten.
Me: She said something else.
Mark: Tell me everything. I have a few more hours to kill, and I love talking to you.
Me: She said I've been smiling a lot more this past week. That she likes it.
This pause is the longest yet. I watch the three dots appear and disappear twice before his message finally comes through. It makes me nervous. Did he type something and then erase it, before typing again? My heart flutters in my chest.
Mark: That might be the best thing anyone's ever told me.
I smile so wide that my cheeks hurt, and the flutters are alive and well. I forgot how these felt, and I never want to forget that again.
