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Paige sighed. “I know.”
“And it’s not as if I wasn’t an enthusiastic participant…”
“Okay. I get it, Mom. I don’t need a—”
“Blow by blow?” her mother asked, deep blue eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Oh, God.”
“You know, dear, you’re a bit of a prude.”
“Oh, God,” Paige said again. Her mother was right. Shewasa prude. When had that happened? “I’m sorry. Harry seems like a very nice man. I actually liked him a lot.”
“Really? You’re not just saying that?”
“I’m not just saying that.”
The phone rang.
“That’ll be the concierge,” Joan said, running into the kitchen to answer it. “Harry’s here,” she said, returning seconds later. “I said I’d be right down. Do you have plans for tonight?”
“Nothing definite.” Actually, she had no plans at all. She and Chloe had talked of getting together, but then Josh had come down with an earache, so that finished that.
“You could call Sam,” her mother suggested.
“I could,” Paige agreed. She’d been thinking about him a lot lately. The truth was that she missed him. “But it’s probably not a good idea.”
“Maybe not.” Her mother walked toward the door and opened it.
“Mom…” Paige called.
“Yes, dear?”
“No sex! At least till you’re finished with the antibiotics. I don’t want any more phone calls from the hospital.”
“Yes, dear.” The door closed behind her.
“God,” Paige said, picking up her book, reading a few more boring paragraphs, then walking into the kitchen and tossing the novel into the garbage bin under the sink. “Enough of that.”
Should she call Sam, confess that she missed him?
Or did she just miss having someone in her life?
It wouldn’t be fair to call him before she knew for sure.
In the meantime, there was Mr. Right Now. Paige pulled her cellphone out of her pocket and checked for messages, finding none.
She wondered if he was back from Florida, and if his mother’s condition had improved. What if she’d died?Then I’ll never get laid,Paige thought, and laughed out loud. “You’re a horrible person,” she said, walking into the family room and putting on the television, aimlessly switching among the various channels for the next half hour, trying to find something—anything—of interest. There wasNightmare Next Door,followed byFear Thy Neighbor,which was on opposite something calledWives with Knives.“Seriously?Wives with Knives?”
She settled on an ancient episode ofCSI: Miami,then returned to the kitchen and made herself a cup of tea. She was finishing her tea and checking her phone for messages she knew weren’t there when it rang.
“My mother got married,” Chloe announced.
“What?”
“Yup. Just got a text from the blushing bride herself. Apparently, she met this guy at a dance competition last week and knew instantly he was Mr. Right. They eloped to Las Vegas yesterday.”
“Wow. How many Mr. Rights does this make?”
