“Oh. My. Goodness!” she whisper-shouts. “So?”
“So, what?”
“What are you doing about it now?”
“Now?”
“Yes, now. How many people do you think meet in Europe, end up living in the same city ten years later, and end up working together?”
“Nine.”
“Nine years. Whatever!”
“Shhhh.”
“Right. Right. How many people?”
“It doesn’t matter, Ave. It’s really fun that we reconnected. But that’s it. He’s my co-worker and Mia’s coach. And I’m not looking for complications.”
“Complications?” She tsks me. “Are you kidding me? This …” She holds the photo in the air. “... is exactly the type of complication you definitely need.”
Mom’s key sounds in the door.
“Give me that. I don’t want Mom to know yet.”
“Got that right,” Avery agrees, handing me the photo just as the door swings open.
“What a mess!” Mom exclaims.
“We were just about to start cleaning up,” Avery says. “How was your night?”
Mom sighs. “Why are men my age so ... old?”
Avery laughs. “Mom. You are not exactly young.”
“I'm a lot younger than Buckshot—at least at heart. I don't want an old man.”
“What do you want, a young man?” I ask, praying she says no.
“No. Goodness no. But is it too much to ask to find a man who isn't worried about what his gastroenterologist will say if we get ice cream?”
“Buckshot has a gastroenterologist?” I ask.
And we all fall out in laughter.
Mom hangs her coat and we all clean up the living room, then we put the flowers into three vases and two mason jars, scattering them around the kitchen and bathrooms. Mom puts one on her bedside table.
“Well, the man did have good taste in flowers,” Mom says.
“Your bar has to be higher than that,” Avery says.
“It is. I knew he wasn’t a match before we even went out. You come to know these things once you’ve lived enough life.”
“Why’d you go out with him then?” Avery asks.
Avery holds the plate of cookies out to Mom. She grabs one and collapses into the side chair, kicking her boots off and taking a bite.
“Free dinner. A night out. Someone paying attention to me and making me feel like I’ve still got it.”
