Aw, that’s sweet of him, I thought, feeling a warmth spreadthrough me. I reached for my phone and dialed his number, eager to thank him for his thoughtful gesture.
That was when I saw I’d received a text from Gabriella, finally.Sorry I missed calls. Phone died. Might stay with Lorenzo again tonight. Talk to you later.
She missed calls, messages,andtexts! And did she really think that a dead phone was a decent excuse? That’s right up there with sayingMy alarm clock didn’t go off.Whose fault is that? Furthermore, this wasn’t her second time using that one.She needs another phone.The only thing that staved off the anger was a sense of relief. This message had come from the real Gabriella; a kidnapper would have created a better story.
“Hey, Richard. Thank you for the flowers. They’re lovely,” I said as soon as he answered.
“Of course, Joyce,” he replied. “I wanted to congratulate you on your new job. Have you gone to lunch yet?”
“No, not yet,” I admitted.
“Would you like to join me at that small café near your workplace?” he suggested.
“Sure, I’d like that,” I agreed, grateful for the chance to spend some time away from the worries about Gabriella circling overhead.
When lunchtime arrived, Richard pulled up in front of the recreation center, and we drove to the nearby café, a charming little spot with checkered tablecloths and mason jar glasses. It was the kind of small-town café where the waitstaff knew everyone’s name and asked about their kids, and the menu hadn’t changed since 1985—good, simple comfort food.
As we sat down at a quiet table, I thanked Richard again for the flowers. He flashed me a charming smile. I noticed the flirty glint in his eyes.
What was I thinking?This man had sent me flowers and taken me to lunch. This must look like a date to him. “Richard, I appreciate the gesture, but are you sure you can handle being just friends with me?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Joyce, I’ll be honest. I’ve always known how to pursue a woman, but being friends with one is uncharted territory for me. I just want to know if there’s any chance at all for something more. In the future, I mean. After the friendship is firmly established.”
I studied his face, noting the sincerity in his expression. A part of me recognized his desperation. We were both in a predicament neither of us could have imagined when we were younger. No one saysI can’t wait to be by myself again in my golden years!If we had known, we might have made different choices. You just never know sometimes.
But while I thoroughly understood these things, Richard had to know this wasn’t a good look. Seemed like he was asking me to commit to the possibility of a romantic relationship, which felt as equally smothering as if he’d asked me to be his girlfriend.
Is that what I’d be at my age, anyway? Agirlfriend?
“Richard, I enjoy your company, and I’m grateful for your friendship. But right now, that’s all I can offer you. I can’t commit to anything more.”
“Well, at least you didn’t say flat ‘no.’ There’s hope.”
I blinked slowly. “Hope.”
“Yeah. I just need a little hope that anything could happen, you know?”
The waitress arrived with our ice water and took our food order as well as my request for coffee. I glanced at the menu but couldn’t fully focus, my mind still on Richard’s words.Hope? Hope for what?
“Richard, do you have any female friends?” I asked before sipping my water.
He looked thoughtful for a moment before answering. “Well, yes, but they’re all women I’m not attracted to. Not my type.”
“And what, exactly, is your type?”
His lips curved upward, like he’d been waiting for this question.
I rolled my eyes to let him know this was not the time to give me a corny line. Anything even close to one of those bad pickup lines would make me walk back to the recreation center if need be.
He laughed at my expression and shook his head, presumably hard enough to dislodge the foolishness he’d considered saying. “Okay, okay. No romantic overtures.”
“Thank you in advance,” I said.
“Okay, hmmm…” His gaze drifted up and to the left. He was actually thinking of a non-frisky answer to my question, apparently. “Since you are myfriend, and nothing more, I’m going to tell you the truth.”
I slow-blinked. “That is ideal.”
“Right. Here’s the thing. What I really want is an old-fashioned woman. She cooks, laughs at my jokes, goes to church, is obsessed with keeping the house clean. She fusses about everything, keeps me in line. She makes sure I don’t miss my doctors’ appointments, she buys all the kids and grandkids Christmas gifts and puts both our names on them. You feel me?”
