When Ethan seemed to have calmed, Amy eased off the phone, then looked at her watch. It was a quarter after nine. She’d look desperate if she went rushing back to the living room to see if he was still there. Even though she felt a little desperately eager, she knew from a few angsty occasions from her teenage years that she should not show it. Anyway, that highly charged moment had been obliterated by the ring of her phone. It would be tough to re-create.
With a sigh, Amy hauled herself up and went into the bathroom to start a bath. She’d brought an arsenal of bath bombs and selectedWinter Wonderland.She went back into the bedroom and heard a familiarthudon the other side of the bedroom door. She opened it and watched Duchess smell her way inside, wobble to her dog bed, and circle several times before dropping into a perfect half-moon, down for the night.
Amy returned to her bath, disrobed, stepped into the delicious heat of water and fragrant winter scent, then sank down to her chin. She thought about what had happened tonight. How close she’d come tokissing a man other than her ex-husband. How, amazingly, she’d been ready to go all in—she could feel her inhibitions evaporating like a summer fog. She reallylikedthis guy, didn’t she?
But so what if she did? What could come of it?
Amy groaned and dunked her head under the water a moment. What a stupid question to ask herself—she sounded like someone’s grandma. When did she get so cautious? When she was twenty, she damn sure didn’t walk around wondering what could come from a hookup. She was more into the experience, going in headfirst, lured by the physical sensations and staying for all the fantasies she’d create in her head. But somewhere along the way, she’d built a wall of inhibitions. What was it about being in her fifties that made her such a stick in the mud?
Well. Besides that niggly little fear of being hurt again. That pain was so dull now that she tended to forget about it. But the abstract still existed, and it scared her a little. What she hadn’t known at twenty was how bad love could hurt.
In addition, she’d be lying if she didn’t admit to herself that there were more practical considerations, too. Like if she didn’t get hurt, and things sort of progressed, that didn’t mean she would be okay doing anyone’s laundry. That’s where it always went, didn’t it? Meet a guy, fall in love, live for the honeymoon phase, and the next thing you know, you’re doing laundry and someone is asking what’s for dinner. At least that’s the vibe she’d picked up from her two terrible Bumble matches.
She was beginning to annoy herself. Here she was with a golden opportunity, and her brain was working overtime to find ways to shut it down. If she was going to embrace the bohemian artist aesthetic, she ought to embrace it fully and stop worrying about all the what-ifs.
Once, she’d made the mistake of trying to talk to her brother about the whole dating-at-this-age thing. She and Kevin were close in age and had similar experiences in failed relationships. They’d been sitting on the back porch, her with a glass of wine, him with a beer, watching Jonahmow the lawn. It was quite entertaining to watch the man-child try and negotiate a hill with a mower.
Amy brought the dating thing up, and after Kevin razzed her about finally coming to Don Juan for advice, he at least tried to take the topic seriously.
“Here’s the deal,” she said. “I don’t know how to get back into the world.”
“The world? The whole world?”
“Yes, the whole world,” Amy said. “The world past the fence here. I don’t know how to, like, date. I have all this baggage.”
Kevin had looked confused. “What do you mean, you have all this baggage?”
“You know,” Amy had said. “A divorce under my belt? Two kids? You must understand—you have baggage, too.”
“Me?”Her brother had seemed stunned that she would lump him in with the other baggage handlers. “What baggage do I have?”
“Well, for starters, you live with your sister.”
“Only for a little while,” he said defensively, pointing the neck of his bottle at her. “That’s not baggage, that’s a sudden change of plans.”
Amy had stared in disbelief at him, wondering if he really believed that or was just an idiot. “You’ve been here four months and counting, Kev.”
“I know, I just…I thought we were going to talk about your bad Bumble dates. What was the matter with them?”
Amy chewed her lip a moment as she thought about it. “I don’t know, exactly. They just weren’t my type.”
Kevin sighed. He took a swig of his beer. “I can’t believe I’m going to ask you this, but what is your type?”
“Well, I like funny. And smart.” She paused. “And he should probably be from Texas. I’m just thinking of logistics here. But not the part of Texas that’s ultraconservative. More toward the cities.”
Kevin stared at her.
“What?”
“Logistics is not a type. You’re really going to start with geography? Come on, Amy, everyone has a type.”
“Do you?”
“Absolutely.”
“What is it?”
“Female.”
