Page 50 of Tastes Like Summer

“Yeah, but that was before you caught feelings for⁠—”

“I—I didn’t catch feelings. I—” I sigh in frustration. “I’m hanging up now. Talk later.”

Which is how I find myself now, determination wavering. Should I listen to Rosie? Is this a mistake?

But then just as I delete the few words I’d managed to type out, I get a banner notification of another text from Michael:

Michael

Diana. We can’t keep avoiding this. Can you please call me? Send me a text? Smoke signals? This isn’t right.

You can’t avoid me forever.

Fine. I’ll see you at drop-off.

The tightness that was building in me reaches its limit, which is why I decide to push through my doubts and text Jonathan. I cannot continue whatever this is with Michael, and maybe going out with another man will help. Somehow.

Diana

Hey, Jonathan. You mentioned something about a date?

I wear the nicest thing I brought with me: the red top and midi-skirt combo I wore to Barbara’s wedding. It’s not overtly sexy, but the silky tank shows a bit of skin and the soft satin clings gently to my curves. It’s light and airy and perfect for a summer’s night. At least I hope.

It’s my first first date in over ten years and to say I’m freaking out is an understatement—though not for the same reasons I would’ve freaked out all those years ago. This time, it isn’t just about the nerves of going out with a new guy, but about a million other things, too.

For one, I’m not too happy about leaving Cami and Emi with a new babysitter—even if said babysitter is Catterina, Liza’s mom. But I couldn’t ask Michael to watch my girls tonight. I mean, after everything that happened between us, how was I supposed to ask him to take them for the night while I go on a date with another guy? But when Barbara called for our weekly check-in, and I mentioned getting asked out, she suggested her (even without me having mentioned what happened between me and Michael).

“She practically raised me, so she’s had experience with kids with chronic conditions. There was more than one instance she had to take care of me post-seizure when my parents just… wouldn’t. Sure, she’s in her sixties now, but she’s still very physically agile, and is an experienced mother and grandmother. She’ll be able to take care of the girls and monitor Emi all through the night, I promise. You just need to give her clear instructions.”

“And you think she’d do it? I don’t even know her. I’ve only met her that one time.”

“Yeah, but you and Liza have sort of become friends, right?”

“I mean, I’d say we’re friendly, but it’s not like we’ve gotten to the ‘spilling life secrets’ part of our relationship.”

Liza and I have hung out since the Fourth of July weekend; we went out for lunch with our kids last weekend and had gotten to know each other better. It had been amazing having someone to talk to who wasn’t Michael, to be honest. Barbara and I had grown quite close over the weeks during our weekly conversations and occasional texting, and I was in constant communication with Rosie, but there was no question that I’ve been in desperate need of some in-person girl talk. I just wasn’t quite sure whether our relationship was there yet.

“Regardless, Catterina is, like, the best person in the world. She’ll do it—especially if I ask.” I could practically hear Barbara’s excitement for me on the other end of the phone, and it was damn contagious. Suddenly, the paralyzing nerves I felt whenever I thought about the date weren’t as paralyzing. Just a bit debilitating.

So when Jonathan picks me up in his green Range Rover, I’m not too nervous to leave the girls with her, a woman who’s had experience in following medical instructions and taking care of children with chronic conditions.

She puts her hands on my shoulders, and offers a comforting, “I’ll take care of your girls. Enjoy your night—you deserve it.”

And with that, I step out into the driveway in the only pair of high-heeled sandals I own.

“Hey,” Jonathan whispers, taking my hand and bringing it to his lips.

The gesture shocks me, my cheeks turning a blazing red. Did he seriously just do that? I want to cringe, but I stop myself just in time.

“You look so beautiful.”

My stomach tightens, but not in the same way it does whenever Michael smiles at me, or even whenever I remember the kisses we shared just outside by the pool, right beneath the stars.

As soon as the thought of Michael pops into my head, I shake it. This whole night is supposed to be about not thinking about him. It’s supposed to be about having fun with someone else.

“Um, thank you. You look good, too,” I say, my voice barely audible over the sound of my beating heart.

He does look good. He looks incredible, actually. Even though it’s close to a million degrees out, Jonathan looks perfectly comfortable and absolutely delicious in a full suit. Even through his clothes, I can tell he’s athletic—there’s no doubt in my mind that a shirtless Jonathan would be a sight for sore eyes. But it does nothing for me. Not when the physical pull Michael has over me has grown exponentially since first meeting him.