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The truth is, I never thought I was an app person either. Yet, the two whole dates I’ve had in the last three years suggest it might be time to change my thinking. The first date was with my mailman. His exceptionally fine legs caught my eye last summer while he was walking up and down my street. Too bad his personality didn’t match his quads.
The other was with the dry cleaner who helps us get stains out of dresses that future brides leave behind. Although I didn’t realize that was a date until he tried to hold my hand over coffee at Rosemary’s. I thought we were getting together to discuss a particularly bright lipstick smudge on the neckline of one of my most expensive gowns.
“Apps are for lazy people,” Jamie persists.
While this comment makes me bristle, I do not want to fight with him. “I’m sure you’re right.”
“Are you admitting to being a lazy dater?” he wants to know.
“You’d know best.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It only means that you seem to have made up your mind about online dating and I’m fairly certain I won’t change it, so there’s no point in discussing the topic with you.”
“I don’t want to fight with you,” he says. “I’m sorry I said anything about how you meet your dates.”
“Apology accepted,” I tell him. “Now, if you and I are going to be friends, you should know that if we ever go to the movies, I’ll require my own popcorn. I don’t share.”
“Go to the movies?” He sounds worried, like I just asked him out.
I clarify, “You, me, and Sammy.”
“You wouldn’t even share with Sammy?” Now he sounds amused.
“No.”
“And you’d want me to pay? That sounds kind of like a date.”
“I would pay sometimes.”
“And you’d buy me my own popcorn?” This conversation is ridiculous.
“You’d have to share with Sammy,” I tell him. “Do you know how expensive movie theater popcorn has become?”
“What about lunch today?” he asks. “Who’s paying?”
“You, obviously. I’m not even a member here. But I’ll pay the next time we get together.”
“Promise?” he asks like he’s looking forward to our next encounter.
“Sure,” I tell him, knowing full-well that we’ll hardly even see each other after today. I mean, there’s Chicago next weekend, but surely his mind will totally be on Beth and not on me. I don’t know why that thought bothers me so much. Except that the more I get to know Jamie Riordan, the more I really like him.
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
JAMIE
Spending the day at the pool with Sammy and Melissa is the most fun I’ve had in a long time. Conversation flows smoothly, and the only uncomfortable moments are self-inflicted. Like when I stare at Melissa’s lips for too long wondering if our kisses were as phenomenal as I recall, or if my lack of female companionship has led me to remember incorrectly. The only way to know would be to kiss her again. That thought marches around my brain for the rest of the day.
At four o’clock, Sammy returns to our chairs with her new friends, Regan and Cameron. “Regan wants us to spend the night at her house tonight. Can I go, Dad? Please?!”
Before I can answer, Regan announces, “My mom is over there.” She points across the pool. “She said she’d like to come over and meet you first.”
“That would be nice,” I tell her. Sammy knows the rules. No going to someone’s house before I at least meet the parents.
Regan waves to her mom, who in turn stands up and walks over to us. She appears to be my age or slightly older. Her skirted swimming suit suggests she’s more interested in being comfortable than trying to look twenty. I like her immediately. Reaching out her hand to me, she says, “I’m Terra, Regan’s mom.”
“I’m Jamie.” I indicate Melissa. “This is our friend, Melissa.”
