“So, Abby,” he says. “How are you, really? Are you happy?” he asks and the question catches me completely off guard.
When I don’t respond, he adds, “You can tell me. I’m the perfect person to confide in. I’m just a stranger.”
“A stranger is just a friend in the making,” I say.
He laughs. “Well, let’s hope.”
I stare down at my plate.
“Seriously,” he says. “How are you? Why aren’t you married with kids yet?”
I honestly don’t know what to say.Nosy much?But he’s right, he’s just a stranger so who cares. “Well,” I start. “I had the whole thing planned out, but then my wonderful ex-husband decided that he was in love with his secretary.”
Noah’s eyes grow wide. “I’m so sorry.”
I shake my head and twirl my fork in my rice. “It’s actually okay because I never really loved him, you know. Not the way you should love your husband.”
He nods, quietly urging me to go on, but I don’t quite know what else to say.
“Have you ever been in love?” he asks.
I laugh. “Wow, you don’t pull any punches, do you? You go right for the gut wrenching questions.”
“Yes, I’ll be asking how you feel about dying next,” he jokes.
“Yes,” I answer him. “Once.”
He nods as if he expected this answer all along. “Tell me about him… or her?” he teases.
I laugh out loud. “You’re funny.”
“I try.”
“Well, he was my first love and my only love,” I confess. “And he was all wrong for me.”
“Isn’t it always the way?” he says. “Why was he all wrong?”
“God, you’re nosy, you know that?”
His grin is impish when he says without apology, “Guilty. What can I say… no one’s perfect.”
I smile. “You’re like a creepy stalker.”
“Averyhandsomecreepy stalker.”
I shake my head yet again. “You’re very nosy, and also full of yourself.”
“Like I said, no one’s perfect.”
My thoughts are brought back to Gavin. My heart still aches for him. It’s been almost twenty years, yet his face never leaves me; that intoxicating smile, those big kind eyes, and mostly, the way he made me feel. I’ve been searching for that feeling ever since. “He was too old for me.”
He rubs a finger along his jaw, and slowly reaches for his wine. “I see.”
“He died,” I add.
He nods quietly and sets his wine glass carefully down on the table, and I’m surprised by his reaction, or lack thereof. “I’m so sorry, Abby,” he finally says, and he seems genuinely sorry.
“Well, anyway, that’s all in the past,” I’m quick to say, eager to change the subject. He doesn’t ask me how Gavin died, and I’m thankful for that. I wouldn’t have the heart to go into it.
