Chapter Seventeen
Mitch didn’t know what had happened, but he found himself dateless Wednesday night. Determined to stop second-guessing the real reason behind her cancellation and take Becca’s excuse at face value, he sent her a text wishing her to feel better and accepted a raincheck for Friday night at his place.
He had better things to do with his free time than pine for a woman he couldn’t stop thinking about. Like planning the rest of his life.
Opening up to Becca had been like giving himself a relief valve, allowing him to let go of the stress because he wasn’t where he should be post-retirement. She’d been right. There was no hard and fast rule for when he had to start his new job, whatever that might be. But he did have time to research the hell out of his options.
By Friday evening, he had plenty to tell Becca…provided she didn’t cancel again.
The doorbell rang.
He felt like an idiot for rushing to the door. Mitch had never been so eager to spend time with a woman. But he knew that acting desperate and needy often worked against a guy. Just as it had worked against the few women he’d dated. He wanted a confident partner, one who liked him for himself and not his outward trappings. And he wanted a woman who had an independent nature but could also lean on him for support, both emotional and mental.
Wouldn’t Becca want the same?
The doorbell rang again. He answered this time.
She stood wrapped in a scarf, hat, and jacket. She looked like a purple Michelin Man.
“Why hello, Madame Grape.”
“You’re hilarious.” Her nose was red. “Are you going to let me in?”
“Winingalready, eh? Come on in, then.” He stood back and shut the door behind her. “Get it? Wining? Like, without the H?”
“No, I don’t get it. Because my brain has frozen over.” It seemed to take her forever to unravel herself from her many layers. But when she emerged, she wore jeans and a simple long-sleeved T-shirt with a lame logo.
“Seriously? Soccer Moms Do It Better?”
She smirked. “What can I say? This is one of my favorite shirts.”
“When did Simon play soccer?”
“Four years ago.” She sighed wistfully. “I really miss the parents.”
He grinned. “You ready for our movie night? I would have fed you, but you told me you’d already eaten.”
“I’m stuffed. We had ravioli earlier.”
“I’m having a sub. Sorry, I didn’t get to eat yet.”
“No worries.”
She followed him into his media room in the back of the house, and they settled in for a rousing rendition ofWonder Woman. The new one he’d recently purchased on DVD.
“Oh, I love this.”
He grinned. “I thought you would. They’re playing it at the cheap theater downtown, but I thought, hey, I can do cheap right here.”
“Great. You think of me and thinkcheap.”
“Exactly.”
They both laughed.
After he fetched her something to drink—of the nonalcoholic variety—they watched the beginning of the movie while he ate.
“You weren’t kidding about being hungry,” she said as she watched him finish his sandwich.
