There it is: the understatement of the century.
Dad moves toward the door, holding it open for us. “Progress rarely feels comfortable,” he says. “If it does, you’re probably not doing it right.”
We step out into the hallway, the air somehow easier to breathe. Holly turns to Becca, hesitates, then pulls her into a hug. Becca pauses, just for a second, before letting her.
Holly pulls back first. “Thank you. Seriously,” she gushes.
Becca nods once, staying professional. “You’re welcome. We’ll see how it goes. And you have a salon to focus on.”
It’s not forgiveness, but not rejection either. A small bud of hope sets inside me that someday these two can be friends.
Holly glances between us, then gives me a look that says "Don’t screw this up again" without actually saying it.
“Text me later,” she chirps, already backing away as she disappears down the hall.
And then it’s just Becca and me. I don’t move right away, neither does she.
There’s space between us, maybe a foot, but it feels like too much. I step closer before I can overthink it. Not touching, but close enough that I can see the shift in her breathing. Close enough that I remember exactly what it feels like to have her pressed against me—and how badly I’ve messed this up.
I take a deep breath, about to do something I haven’t done since I first met her. “Becca, will you go on a date with me?”
Becca blinks at me, then starts laughing. “Wow, I haven’t been asked out in a little while.”
“Yeah, since the day we met.”
Becca starts to look a little uncomfortable.
My eyes widen. “Wait, youhavebeen asked out since then?”
“Well, yeah. I’ve said no, obviously. Property management is a fairly male-dominated field, but the wedding ring does help. Plus, it’s one of the reasons we moved our Zentrology nights to our houses: no men to deal with.”
Of course, my wife gets asked out. Anyone with eyes can see how amazing she is. And here I am, fucking it up.
Still, logic isn’t settling in at this moment. “I need names, descriptions, where you met, and any identifying factors you can give me about these men.”
“What?” Becca sputters with a laugh.
“I need to make sure these fuckers know you are off limits. You already have a ring. Should I get a bigger one? Tattooing ‘off-limits’ seems a bit much. How about a skywriter once a week? Eh, these idiots probably aren’t smart enough to read an actual sign if they don’t already see the signs you are unavailable.”
Becca giggles, wiping tears from her eyes. “Sam, I think we can call off the planes for now. I promise you this isn’t a weekly occurrence, and I have let them all down easy, and none of them have pushed it.”
I feel marginally better,marginally.“Okay,” I say slowly, drawing out the word. “So … the date.”
Her smile fades just a little. And I see it, the hesitation.
She looks at me for a long second. “A date?” she repeats. I nod.
“If I say yes,” she says carefully, “this doesn’t mean everything’s fine.”
“I know.”
“It doesn’t mean we’re … back to normal.”
“I know.”
She studies me again, and in those seconds, I run through my Plan B, C, and D to get this woman back into my life.
“One date,” she says finally. “That’s all I’m agreeing to.”
