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He’s agreeable and fun, and clearly mad about Joanne. He never misses an opportunity to touch her, and seeing them so into each other warms my heart.
“Would you like to join us for some Latin dancing tonight?” he asks when we’ve finished our bow ties for dessert. “I promised Jo I’d show her a club that’s open on Sunday evenings. The owners are friends of my parents. We have to work off all this food we’ve just eaten.”
Latin dancing? I don’t know the first thing about samba or merengue, and I don’t want to be the third wheel. They deserve a romantic evening alone.
“I promised my mom I’d go over for dinner,” I say, “but thanks for the invite.”
“Maybe next time,” he says as our waitress brings the bill.
After paying, Joanne and I excuse ourselves to visit the ladies’ room while Ricky gathers our coats and makes his way to the foyer.
“Holy shit,” I say, grabbing her arm when we’re out of earshot. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Joanne glows. “He’s great, isn’t he?”
“I really like him. You seem to have hit it off straight away.”
“I never thought I’d believe in love at first sight, but this feels like fate.”
Holding her back, I slow my step. “He’s great, Jo, and I’m so happy for you. Just don’t fall for him too fast. You barely know him.”
She gives me a wistful look. “I know what matters.”
“I’m not trying to be pessimistic. I’m just trying to protect you from getting hurt.”
Stopping, she turns to face me. “He’s not Alex, Kate.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“If anything, you should be worried about Ricky. He’s the one who wants six kids and a dog. I’ll be happy with a few nights of his sexy body in my bed.”
“Wow. Sounds pretty serious. Just don’t let him rush you if you’re not sure.”
She takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. “That’s your analytical brain speaking. You know that you have to let your heart win in some life decisions, right?”
I make a face. “I do. I let it.”
“Oh, yeah? Like when?”
“Every time I order something from a menu.”
“Liar.” She slaps my arm playfully. “You analyze every ingredient and have an internal debate about whether it’s cruelty-free before you order so much as a coffee from Starbucks.”
“I’m not that bad,” I say with disdain, but she’s already walking toward the ladies’ room, laughing at me over her shoulder.
“You make me sound like a stick in the mud,” I complain, hurrying after her.
“Sometimes, Kate, I’m afraid you are.”
“What?” I stop at the door, gaping at her.
“I love you, but you really need to learn how to let your hair down.”
“I do!”
“Really?” She lifts a brow. “When was the last time you did something impulsive?”
“I went on a date with Phillip.”
“That wasn’t your impulse. You went because your mother wanted you to.”
“I still went. That counts.”
“Okay,” she says, pushing open the door. “But it didn’t work out, did it?”
“I told you.” I follow her inside. “We didn’t connect.”
She goes into the first stall and closes the door. “Because?”
“Because there was no spark, no attraction.”
“Why?”
I shrug, even though she can’t see me. “Not everyone has chemistry.”
“Or maybe it’s because you’re still stuck on another man.”
“I’m over him,” I say defensively, but the words sound weak, even to myself.
“Right,” she says in a knowing tone.
When the door opens and two women enter, she falls silent and I’m stuck in front of the mirror, unwilling to face myself. How ironic is it that her new guy’s idea of six kids and a dog appeals to me, while the man I’m attracted to wants nothing but a few nights with my body in his bed? If I mentioned six kids or a dog, he’d probably run for the hills.
There’s a line by the time Joanne is done, so we thankfully don’t discuss my inhibitions any longer as we wash our hands and make our way to the front to meet Ricky.
He holds Joanne’s coat open for her and buttons it up, reminding me of the way Alex took care of me. I miss the attentive care of a man. Seeing Joanne and Ricky together both gladdens me and makes me miss what I don’t have.
Chewing my lip, I contemplate this in-between place in which Alex and I exist. We’re not in any kind of relationship—neither sexual nor emotional—but contrary to what I’ve been telling myself and everyone else, we’re not completely over either. We feel like unfinished business. Not wanting the memory of his strong hands and skillful kisses to eat away at my resolve, I push the subject of my tormented thoughts away.
I decline Joanne’s offer to share their taxi to Brooklyn. Instead, I walk down to the Staten Island ferry. I’m so full after the long, five-course lunch that I can’t eat another morsel, but my mom promised to cook something light, and inviting me over for dinner is just an excuse to see me. Being as close as we are, I’m always happy to oblige.
