Marcy shrugged. “Just wondering.”
The doorbell rang, and I raised my eyebrows. “He’s ten minutes early,” I whispered.
She winked. “Just couldn’t wait.”
I casually strolled through the entrance hall, willing my heart to stop its pounding. Some of my nerves were because of Andrew, but most of them were because I hadn’t been on a date in years. This was probably a good opportunity to dust off the cobwebs. There was no future here, so the stakes were very, very low.
When I opened the door, the first thing I noticed was that he had shaved. With his facial hair, he looked ruggedly sexy; but with a clean face, his big puppy-dog-brown eyes were even sweeter. And he looked younger… maybe a little too much younger.
Andrew handed me a bottle of champagne, leaned over to kiss my cheek, put his hands on my hips, and said, “You are beautiful. Seriously.”
I wanted not to smile, but who doesn’t want to hear that? I held up the champagne and said, “Thanks. I should put this in the fridge.”
“I would have brought flowers,” he said, “but this seemed like more fun.”
“I totally agree,” Marcy said, appearing from my bedroom. I cut my eyes at her, warning her without a word to behave herself. “Once you get this girl loosened up, she’s a blast.” She winked at Andrew, and I shook my head.
She walked by me where I was standing at the fridge and whispered, “I changed my mind about getting married. When you’re done with him, can I please have him? Please, please?”
“Go. Home.”
And with that, Marcy was out the door.
“So,” I said. “Do you want a glass of this now?” I looked out the window at what was a perfect sunset. “It would be a shame to waste this amazing view—especially since my sunsets in this house are numbered.”
“Wait, what do you mean, ‘numbered’?” he asked with mild alarm, taking the bottle from me, grabbing a cloth off the stovetop, and popping it perfectly, letting it fizz over into the glasses without spilling a single drop.
“Because we’re selling it in the divorce.”
“You should keep it,” he said.
I smiled. “I can’t keep it. I have to buy a house for one and a half. This is a house for three.”
Andrew clinked his glass with mine and said, “Here’s to an amazing night with the most beautiful tennis mom in all the world.”
I laughed. “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment.”
He looked taken aback. “Have you seen the tennis moms out there? I think you know that was a major compliment.”
Andrew put his hand on my lower back, leaving chill bumps when he took it away, and I pretended to shade my eyes from the sun to hide my blush.Come on. Pull yourself together.
We sat down in the two Adirondack chairs facing the water, and I was very aware of Andrew’s eyes on me.
“So here’s the big question: Why on earth aren’t you shacked up with some sexy sophomore this summer?” I asked.
He laughed and shrugged. “I’m kind of over it, I guess. I did the college thing, and I had a couple years off on the tennis circuit. Grad school is a new leaf for me.” He paused and grinned at me. “I’m a serious, grown-up man now.” Then he added, “Drunk, loud girls aren’t my thing anymore.”
I lifted my champagne flute. “Then this might have been a bad call. Champagne tends to up my volume.”
Andrew ran his fingertips up my bare arm, where it was resting on the Adirondack chair. “I think I’m going to find you pretty irresistible at any volume.”
I leaned my head back, closed my eyes, and smiled, the setting sun warm on my face. I wouldn’t admit it to Marcy, but this was one fairly fabulous first date. I had expected to feel uncomfortable, but Andrew had a way about him. He was soft-spoken yet totally self-assured, and his confidence was infectious. No one wants to admit that her husband leaving her for a younger woman makes her feel insecure, but, come on, who wouldn’t feel shaken?
I was afraid that being with Andrew would make me feel old. But instead it made me feel young—especially two hours later when we were barefoot on the sandy floor of the crowded Hook, Line, and Sinker, one of Cape Carolina’s local bars, singing “Summer Nights” fromGreaseat the top of our lungs.
Andrew let out a loud whoop at the end, swinging the microphone over his head. The bar crowd joined in. He took my hand and kissed it, bowing dramatically at all the other drunkpeople singing along. I was laughing so hard as he dragged me back to the bar that I couldn’t even cheer with him.
Andrew leaned down and rested his forehead on mine. “I really want to kiss you,” he said, scrunching his nose in the most adorable way imaginable. I smiled, waiting for that kiss that I really wanted too, feeling my heart racing to the beat of “Get Low” blaring out of the karaoke machine. But then he pulled away.
