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“So when were you going to tell us you’re dating that man?” She rolls on top of her bed, dragging on her pink PJs.
“Matt? I thought you knew.” I’m playing it cool, and truth is, I’d been hoping to avoid the questions until tomorrow. I’m beat.
“I kinda guessed.” She scrunches up her nose. “It’s the way you kept talking about him, and his kids. Like, Matt… oh God, Matt…” She sighs and moans, and I laugh, then throw a pillow at her.
“Shut up. I don’t do that.”
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sp; “No?” She uses the pillow I threw at her to snuggle, wiggling her bare toes. Her nails are painted a hot red. “Hm. What happened to the cute neighbor, Adam?”
“Nothing. I don’t really like him. Told you.”
“Why not?”
I shrug.
“He’s really cute, in that I-am-totally-handsome-and-innocent-but also-banging-every-girl-in-the-vicinity kind of way.”
I shudder. “Ugh. How awesome.”
“Hey, don’t knock the look. Or is it because he’s so different from Matt Hansen The Beast?”
“He’s not like that.” I once thought he was, too. Not so long ago, in fact, just a few weeks back, when I first met him. With that dark beard and brows, the messy, too long hair, the intense stare. “He’s not, Gigi. Matt is great.”
“You’re in love,” Gigi sighs.
Yeah, I can’t deny it. Not anymore.
She sits up, brows raised. “Shut up! You really are. Tati, oh my God.”
“What?” I say irritably.
“You’re not even trying to deny it. So… does this means it’s serious? With Matt? Isn’t he, like, too old for you?”
“He’s not even thirty.”
Gigi’s eye bug out. “Jesus, that’s old, girl. I mean…” She shakes her head. “You’ve only just turned eighteen.”
“It’s not much of a difference. When you’re an adult, a few years up or down don’t mean anything.”
“Oh right, you’re an adult now, I forget.” The sisterly ribbing and snark is back, and it’s a relief.
Besides, yeah, I am. I’m a woman now. And not a virgin anymore, either, which makes me smile, even if I’m still smarting over how my first time with Matt ended.
He did apologize. But guess what has been eating me up inside all this time? Yeah. And here I thought I didn’t need to talk about it.
I thought wrong. I mean, I understand why he reacted the way he did. That he was shocked, and not sure he could be with someone yet.
But I can’t ignore the little voice that questions whether he’s ready now.
And that’s exactly what I need to talk to him about. I don’t want to push him. I understand that he’s only just coming to terms with his wife’s passing, that he tried to hide from the pain, tried to let it out with his blood, with his anger.
I just want to know if he will give this, give us, a chance. If we are together, even if he’s unsure. If he’ll take a dive into the unknown with me.
“Still can’t believe you’d pass over Adam,” Gigi is muttering, braiding her hair and grabbing her tattered copy of Anne of Green Gables. She sleeps with that book, seriously. “Did you notice I put a condom in your purse in case he makes a move on you?”
“You serious right now? Where did you get a condom?”
