Page 61 of Tastes Like Summer

Jonathan

“It’s done,” I tell Lexi. “We fucking did it, Lex.”

I park my truck in Lexi’s driveway, hug her goodbye, and keep the engine running while I wait for Rachel to run out of the house, where Lauren was babysitting her all day. Taking advantage of this brief moment of alone time, I decide to text Diana:

Michael

Can I take you out tonight?

Her response is nearly immediate:

Diana

I’d love to, but I’ve been working and studying all day, and I promised the girls we’d do some mother/daughter bonding time. I’m taking them to the movies in town.

I almost ask her whether Rachel and I can join but decide against it, not wanting to intrude on their family time. The disappointment hits me unexpectedly, though, because I never would’ve imagined I’d ever feel hurt or sadness for not being included in their family activity. But over the past three weeks, this solidarity or camaraderie we’ve developed has certainly brought us together in more ways than one—not just in a romantic sense. And it kills me because I realize now that their return to Colorado will hurt ten times more than I expected.

Michael

Sure, no problem. How about tomorrow night?

Diana

I’d love that ;)

Where are you going to take me? If you’re thinking dinner, I’m not sure how you’re going to top last night.

This makes me laugh.

Michael

We can do something different. Just be ready tomorrow by seven. If you need a babysitter, I’m not available. I’m going to be too busy taking out this hot, brilliant woman I met at the beginning of the summer. But I can ask my cousin to three-for-one babysit?

Diana

I’d rather not. Nothing against your cousin, but if Liza’s mom is up for it again I’d rather have her do it since I already gave her the rundown, and she has experience taking care of kids and people with chronic conditions.

From the corner of my eye, I see Rachel run out of Lexi’s front door with a grin on her face.

Initially, the idea of dating Diana seemed perfect. But now I wonder how the hell we’re supposed to explain our date to the girls and⁠—

“Fuck it. We’ll figure it out,” I say out loud with determination. I’ve never wanted something more and I’m not just going to give up because things are hard.

Since arriving in Sag Harbor, the girls and I haven’t really spent any bonding time—not the fun activity kind, anyway. Sure, we hit the beach on the Fourth of July, but any time we’ve spent alone has been while they come with me to run errands, or just spending time at home while we watch TV or eat dinner. So I cancelled the stay-at-home pool day I had planned for us and switched it out for a girl’s day out with Emiliana and Camila in town. I thought we could window shop around Sag Harbor, maybe even buy something as a keepsake for our summer in the Hamptons.

Besides spending time together doing something outside the house, I owe it to my daughters to ask them whether they’d be comfortable with me going out with another man—especially when that man is none other than their best friend’s dad. Once I find the right time, I’ll address the possibility of dating—maybe even tell them that I specifically mean their friend’s dad.

My heart flutters just at the thought of it. Of how this conversation I’m hoping to have makes it official: Michael and I are doing this. We’re going for it. The exact parameters, rules, and expectations haven’t been hammered out yet, but what’s certain is that we want to explore it.

I’m both terrified and feel more exhilarated than I have in a long time.

I was hoping for a beautiful beach day, followed by a fantastic movie and dinner, something to soften the blow—but the powers that be failed me. The sky is overcast, the weather muggy, the movie was, as kids say, mid, and dinner was meh and a bit of a headache due to having to be extra careful of what Emi could order.

It’s only after we’re having our post-movie stroll around town, walking up Main Street, that I dare to bring the topic up at all: “So,” I begin. “I have to talk to you girls about something big.” With a nod, I lead them to an empty bench, where we all settle comfortably. “How would you feel about me going on dates? Or possibly, you know…” I take a deep breath, steel myself. “Having a boyfriend?”

Emi gasps just as Cami whips in her seat to look at me.

“What are you talking about?” Cami looks up at me, brows pinched in suspicion. My oldest has always been smarter than your average bear. “Is that where you went last night? On a date?”