Not that I’d want to see him with her. In fact, my throat clogged at the thought. But I had to admit that someone like her would fit him. Certainly more than me.
Dharma was wonderful with the younger crowd that came into the shop, and she had a groupie kind of vibe.
“He can take care of himself. If I could clone her, I would because, so far, those I interviewed here didn’t cut it,” I texted Rio back.
The next text I sent was to Esther. “Any news about the interview? We didn’t get an invite yet.”
“Haven’t heard anything. My bet is on next week,” she replied.
I sighed and drowned myself in work.
That evening, I drove straight to Life’s A Beach to meet with Rio.
“Meeting with a friend. Don’t wait up,” I texted Angelo, phrasing it more for the USCIS than him.
A thumbs-up emoji was his only reply.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We sat on the balcony, overlooking the ocean. I didn’t want anyone to overhear us and, out here, with the sound of the waves and breeze, there was little chance for it. Plus, the view was just what I needed.
Rio rubbed her palms over her arms. I gave her my jacket. The cool evening breeze was purifying.
“We’re very different, but I think it’ll be okay. I try not to think about the future too much.” I had to answer Rio’s question in a way that would sound rational both to her and to Immigration in case they interviewed her.
“You not thinking about the future?” She tilted her head, her smile and eyes taunting me.
“Sometimes you need to let go.” Oh, God, I was quoting Angelo.
“I agree. And I’m happy you’re going for it. I never thought you would.”
I sighed. “Neither did I.”
“It looks good on you, June. You seem … I don’t know … different, more … radiant? No, not radiant, though I see that on you, too. You look … what’s the word I’m looking for?” She took a sip from her mango smoothie. “Zesty!” She almost choked, as if she were afraid she’d lose the word if she didn’t utter it immediately. “You look zesty, jazzy.”
I flinched my head back and knitted my brows in awhat the hell.
“I know, I know. It sounds weird, but you seem different. Good different, not bad different. Zesty. That’s it.”
“Okay, zesty, I get it.” I chuckled.
“So, keep doing whatever it is you’re doing,” she concluded. “What?” she added, probably noticing my face clouding.
“Nothing.”
“Your age difference?”
“If you immediately mentioned this, then you know it, too.” I couldn’t help unburdening at least some of it.
“It’s a gap, but not a gigantic one. If he were the older one, we wouldn’t have even mentioned it. You’re only forty, June, not a hundred. And you look much younger, and your body functions even younger than that. If you found love, don’t let numbers ruin it for you.”
“How about you?” I said instead of asking,Love? What love?“What’s new with you?”
Rio made a are-you-sure-you-wanna-hear-it face then said, “Owen is coming back to the States. He was injured. It’s his house. I’ll have to find a place soon. I started looking.” Owen Wheaton, Oscar’s grandson and her older brother’s best friend, coming back after years abroad, was already impacting her.
“He’s leaving England?”
“It’s a knee injury. He had an operation and lost the season, and they didn’t renew his contract. At thirty-seven, a footballer’s career is sundowning even without an injury.”
