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“That’s kind of a lot of pictures, isn’t it?”
“Not the point.”
“I know it sucks, but look on the bright side. Now you have a hilarious story to tell whenever there’s a lull in conversation at parties.”
I groaned. “I don’t know if I’d call it hilarious.”
“Try it at a party sometime and see.”
I had to laugh at myself. Jill’s brand of pep talk was just what I’d needed. I’d only lost pictures, and I was still here, ready to make new memories. “What’s new with little Olivia?”
“Still acing tummy time. Sometimes Shatner comes up to sniff her like he hasn’t figured out what she is yet.”
“He thinks she’s a puppy who hasn’t figured out how to dog.” I couldn’t resist gentle pokes at the Mama Bear.
“Hmm.” Jill didn’t sound as amused by the comparison. “He isn’t sure what to do with himself at night. He wants to sleep with me, but he wants more room than Ed gives him. He’ll get up and down six times a night. He’s as bad as Olivia.”
“So you’re saying taking care of my dog is exactly like caring for an infant. Good to know.”
“It’s really not. Even if he does have the same number of special creams as my baby.”
“I bet hers smell better, though.”
“Enough about us,” Jill said, switching into gossip mode. “I want to hear more about your trip. What else have you seen? Have you tried haggis yet? I need to know about the sexy Scot already.”
I gave her the Cliffs Notes version of my first few days in Scotland, ending with Carlos presenting me with the replacement camera for his part in my dip in the lake. I still wasn’t sure if our mistakes didn’t even out, but I’d accepted the camera anyway.
“Now,” she coaxed. “Tell me about Duncan MacBeard.”
I looked around the bedroom as though I might find him crouched in the corner just waiting for me to start talking about him. Harlow was downstairs with Carlos, so whatever I had to say to Jill was safe. Or as safe as anything I told Jill ever could be.
“He’s funny and sexy and I think I could listen to him talk for about ninety days straight, but…” I dropped my voice even lower, as if Duncan could hear me down the hall. “He’s not really my type.”
“I like him already.”
“Seriously? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“How do I put this?” She paused while Shatner barked at some mystery sound in the background. “Your type sucks.”
My mouth dropped open. “Hey!”
“In the nicest, blandest, most boring way possible. Nice, nice guys.” She faked a yawn.
I wanted to argue, but her assessment wasn’t that far off from my mental boyfriend lineup earlier in the day. Duncan wasn’t like any man I’d ever dated. So far, that hadn’t stopped me from thinking about him an alarming amount of the time.
“Duncan’s nice.” Weakest defense of a man ever.
“Sure, but you could think of other words to describe him, right?”
“So many.” I sighed a little, descriptions parading through my head.Thoughtful. Funny. Pulling me in like a charismatic magnet.
“See? I’ve been saying you need to find someone less cerebral. Get yourself a man of action.”
My stomach dipped over that phrase. Duncan fit it to a tee. “But it’s ridiculous to think of him like this at all. He lives on the other side of the world.”
“You’re together now. Enjoy that.”
“But nothing real can happen.” Despite whatever Bea thought of my poor relationship history, I still wanted something lasting—a life-changing, world-rocking love. That didn’t really seem like the kind of thing we could have over a vacation and let go when we went home again.
