“Where’s he?”
“Florida. With his third wife.”
“Wow. Sorry. That must have been rough on you. As a kid.”
“You stop believing after a while, you know?”
“Have you been married?”
I jolt. “Uh, no.” Subtext: And I never will be. I don’t know why I don’t say it. “Growing up with a rotating door of stepfamilies doesn’t exactly motivate when it comes to settling down.”
“So… not into long-term relationships.”
“Long-term anything. This building? My current house? These are my longest-term commitments, probably ever.” I shrug. “Except college. Four years.” It occurs to me that I’ve been in my house now for nearly that long. The itch I usually feel to get up and move on to the next thing just hasn’t pushed me out yet. It will. I know it.
“My parents were one-timers.”
“Yeah?”
“I mean, who knows, right? Maybe time would have changed things, but…” Her smile is warm but a little distant. “Nah. She’s been gone twenty years, and Dad’s still in love with her.”
I fight the urge to pick her up and cuddle her on my lap. While I struggle for something to say, she asks, “What about the club? How long have you been involved with that?”
“Well, it’s only a few months old now, but I’ve been working on the project for a couple of years. Fundraising and crowdsourcing and so on. I’ve enjoyed taking a more active role in getting them up and running, but as soon as they’re well established, I’ll sell. What’ll the long term do to my friendships, you know? What’ll I even want in just a few years’ time?”
“What do you want now?” she asks.
I open my mouth to give the usual reply, which is that I wantfreedom and a decent income, my own business, the ability to choose whatever I want whenever I want. A place to play. Partners to play with.
It all feels… wrong in this moment.
“Hell if I know.” And then, because I’d rather not dwell on it, I ask, “What about you? You in the place you want to be? Here? Where do you even live?”
“I have a tiny house.”
“You do?”
Her smile tugs at my belly, sayscome hereandkiss this mouth. “When I left my ex, I moved out right away. There was, like, nothing available in town. So the Mole Hole came up and—”
“Mole Hole?”
Her smile melts away. “That’s what Sam calls it.”
I suddenly don’t like the idea of Rae in a tiny place. She should have space. A manor to parade around in like a queen. Then again, I can see how she’d like something cozy. A sweet little cottage.
“No bathtub, right?” I ask, apropos of nothing.
“No. Sadly.”
“You should come take a bath at my place sometime.”
We’re both stunned into momentary silence by the unexpected invitation.
“Oh. Sure. I’d, um, I’d really like that.”
“I’ll get the bath salts ready.” It’s meant as a joke, but now I stare down at my computer screen and see nothing but Rae naked in my bathtub, slick and soft and covered in bubbles, and then—oh, hell—I slide in behind her and…
“Anyway!” Rae appears to search for something to fill the long silence. “Um. My family. We’re kind of eccentric. We are obsessed with musicals. And, uh, weird snacks. We’ve also got strange traditions, like hunting for bananas on New Year’s Day.”
