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When I said I wanted to be with her but I didn’t want to hurt any other relationship.
That wasn’t enough. At the time it felt like it, but it clearly wasn’t.
“She just sent me tickets to this library event and asked if I wanted to go with her and Zach…and…”
Suddenly, I can’t wait.
I can’t just let her take the lead. She’s been making overtures all week. And I know exactly what she’s been saying with her gifts.
“What about Tate?” Nick asks.
I saw my friend as the obstacle, but all along, my regrets were the roadblock.
Regrets over my marriage and so many regrets over time I lost with Zach. How I might have had more time if I had just given Nina my info.
I don’t want to lose any more chances. Like I told Tate the other morning, I don’t want to have any doubts about the things I’ve said. Ornotsaid. “There’s something I have to say to the woman I love.” I glance at my kid in the pool. “And I have to do it now. Can Zach stay with you for a bit?”
“He can stay the night. Go get your girl.”
I say goodbye to my kid and I leave with no regrets.
34
FACE MASK
Jules
I’m stretched out on my couch, the sea clay mask on my face finally cracking—which is, incidentally, one of life’s great unsung pleasures—and the newest episode ofThe Dating Gameshitting peak emotions, when my phone buzzes with a text.
It’s Friday night so I expect Camden with an update on her date. Eager for the news, I grab the phone, pause the show on my laptop, then click open the messages.
But it’s not my bestie. It’s from Hank, my doorman.
There’s a delivery for you. If you’re home, I can bring it up. Or them, really.
Huh. That sounds intriguing, so I call him. “Hi, Hank. Who’s the delivery from?”
Hank clears his throat, then sighs, like he doesn’t want to be a pawn in a game. “Um…it says it’s from…Your piano teacher.”
Electricity jolts through me, chased by fireworks. Then, a healthy dose ofoh shit. I’m in sleep shorts, a tank top, and I look like mud is caked to my face.
Because mudis caked to my face.
Is Finn downstairs with the delivery? No idea, but I can get ready fast. “Is someone there?”
“Nope.”
But he might be nearby, and no man needs to see my mud face. “Do you mind bringing it up? Or them.”
“Might take a few trips, but sure I can do it.”
A few trips? Did Finn bring me a palette of perfume? A dozen boxes of panties? “Okay,” I say, already breathless with anticipation. “And thank you, Hank.”
“Of course, Miss Marley.”
I scrub the sea clay off my face at a record clip, finishing just as footsteps sound outside my door.
I’m slathering on lotion so I don’t look rubbed raw, when I hear footstepsagain.
