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“The real gut punch was that she wound up engaged to another guy a month later.”
“That’s brutal.”
“C’est la vie.” I try to sound nonchalant. “That was four years ago. I’m over it, but I also decided that staying single is in my best interest. How about you? Do you ever miss having a man into your life?”
“I have three men in my life. Five, if you count Digger and Grandpa Jack.” After a thoughtful pause, she says, “But yeah, I guess I miss some things.”
“Like what?” Our server returns to refill our wine, so she pauses her thought until he leaves.
Then Moira picks up her glass and takes a sip. “It’s the little things, like sitting in the passenger seat instead of driving all the time or … having someone to talk to about grown-up things like paying bills. Or having someone to talk to about the boys. When things are going bad and I’m worried, I could use the moral support, and when things are going well and I’m proud of them, I want someone to feel my joy. I’ve got my grandpa and Digger, but that’s different, you know?”
My heart aches for her. “I’m sure it is.”
She shakes her head sadly. “But I’ve been there, done that, and I’m still picking up the pieces.”
“I don’t want to pry,” I say, realizing I’m about to do just that. “But were you and Everett happy?”
She tips her head back and forth in a non-committal fashion. “We did the best we could. We were young and strapped for cash, so that didn’t exactly make life easier. But it’s not like I had great role models in the marriage department.”
“Not exactly a ringing endorsement for the institution of matrimony,” I say in a gentle tone.
She takes a deep breath. “It wasn’t what I thought marriage would be like. Everett seemed to think I was an accessory he could put on and take off at will. I assumed it would be more like the lovey-dovey couples in the movies. I suppose I didn’t try to change things because, unlike my mother, he wasn’t abandoning me.”
“Do you ever want to go down that road again?”
“It’s not like there’s a line of men in Gamble waiting to date a single mom with three rowdy boys.”
I’m sure what she says is the truth. Most men in my experience would rather have their own kids than marry into a ready-made family. But I don’t confirm that. “That’s a shame because any man would be lucky to end up with you and your boys.”
Moira scoffs. “I doubt many guys would see it that way.”
“I do.”
A moment of intensity passes between us that’s so raw and honest it steals my breath away. I can tell that Moira wants the same thing I do, but as quickly as hope fills her eyes, it disappears. She turns away, and gazes out over the ocean.
Our meals arrive in time to save me from doing something stupid like pulling her into my arms and kissing her with the heat of a thousand suns. “This looks great,” I tell her. Taking a bite, I discover it tastes as good as it looks. The fish is cooked to perfection and the dill cream sauce is light and flavorful. Mashed potatoes and roasted veggies round out the meal, each bite better than the last.
We eat in silence if you don’t include all the groans of appreciation. Taking a break to let my food digest, I tell Moira, “My parents will make you think they can barely stand each other, but they’re the strongest couple I know.”
“Pardon me?” she asks, looking confused.
“I was thinking about what you said earlier about your parents … and you and Everett.”
“And you wanted me to know you had good role models.” Her eyes narrow in confusion.
“I don’t know why I need you to know that, but I do.” I feel a bit foolish.
Giving me a doubtful look, she says, “Even though your dad is taking dancing lessons with some woman named Harriet?”
“He’s only doing that to get my mom’s attention. And it looks like it worked. She’s going on vacation with him … to visit me.”I’ve sunk my own ship.
Moira laughs. “Well then, I can’t wait to meet them. They sound very interesting.”
“They really are. They drive me nuts a lot of the time, but their hearts are in the right place. They’re going to love you,” I tell her. “In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if my mom tries to play matchmaker.”
Moira’s smile fades. “I’m pretty sure they aren’t going to want you to get involved with a woman with as much baggage as I have.”
“You haven’t seen my mother’s luggage collection,” I tease. Moira smiles, seemingly against her will.
