“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Sam repeated.

I put my hands to my head and did some quick math. If my calculations were right, we were probably okay. But how had I let this happen?

“I don’t know how I let this happen. I’m so sorry!” Sam echoed my thoughts. “I can’t believe …” he trailed off, climbing from the bed and heading for the bathroom. He was back a minute later with a washcloth. He used the warm cloth to clean me up and then returned to the bathroom. Neither of us spoke for several minutes. I pulled the sheet up to cover myself.

I finally looked over at Sam where he was perched on the side of my bed. I could tell he was struggling for the right words. As was I.

Eventually, he settled on, “What do you want to do?”

Not entirely sure what he meant, but getting the general idea, I responded, “I think we’re okay as far as … timing goes. But we both know this in itself is far from okay.” He was nodding slightly. “And, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry too.”

His head swung in my direction and his eyes were hard. “You have nothing to be sorry about. It was my responsibility!”

I stared back at him. “Uh, maybe if the calendar suddenly spiraled back to 1965, but I’m pretty sure that’s not the case. It was our responsibility. We both screwed up.” I drew myself up to lean against my headboard, bringing the sheet with me. “Look, Jill made me get tested after Mike left and I’m … clean.” That word sounded so awkward and inappropriate to my ears.

Sam was nodding. “I am too. I haven’t been with anybody since … I’m clean,” he repeated.

Not having the headspace to examine that comment, I just nodded in return. God, I should have stayed on the pill after the divorce, but there seemed to be no point. This is a fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into, Jenna.

An awkward silence settled over the bedroom, causing my skin to feel itchy and tight. I wanted so badly to be alone—or maybe to rewind to the minutes before Sam arrived on my doorstep. But it felt cruel to ask him to leave.

As if reading my thoughts, Sam turned to me. “Why do I feel as if you’re about to kick me out?”

I expelled a humorless burst of air, almost a snort. Then I met his eyes with a wordless confirmation.

Sam looked down at his knees, his shoulders suddenly slumping as he paused in thought. He’d put on his boxer briefs, thankfully, so things were only slightly less uncomfortable when he finally stood. Wordlessly, he finished dressing before looking back at me with a deep crease in his forehead. “I don’t like leaving you like this. I feel like we need to talk this out.”

I clutched the sheet to my chest and shook my head. “I need some time, Sam. This whole thing suddenly got very real.”

It was his turn for a mirthless laugh. “That’s putting it mildly.” He put his hands to the bed and leaned in toward me. I hoped to God he wasn’t going to try and kiss me—it might send me over the edge. But he maintained a couple feet of distance. His eyes, however, pierced into mine. “I’ll give you time, Jenna, but don’t for one second think that my leaving tonight is anything but a small concession in a difficult moment.” He held my eyes for another few seconds and then left the room.

I heard the front door close and a minute later, my phone dinged with a text notification. Leaning toward the bedside table, I made out the message.

Sam: Don’t forget to lock the deadbolt. I’ll call you tomorrow.

* * *

Monday dawned, and I was feeling entirely addled. Needing the distraction, I cleaned out my filing cabinet and the junk drawer, unearthing several items I’d thought long gone. A couple of Mike’s tie clips—in the trash with you—and stacks of old receipts were among the useless items I discovered. Mike had always insisted on saving receipts from every purchase, no matter how small. It was one of those pet peeves that form over time, and I’ll admit that after he left, I found particular joy in the act of ditching my receipts as I exited restaurants and markets. Sometimes it’s the little things.

But annoying habits and piles of receipts weren’t what destroyed our marriage. I still wasn’t sure what had done that, apart from a gradual erosion of interest and emotion. The connection was lost, if it had ever truly been there in the first place. I couldn’t trust my memory to tell the whole story.

Just as I couldn’t trust myself to put faith in new opportunities. That’s why I was taking baby steps. Buy some new clothes, try a new bar, dye my hair, make new acquaintances. Have an affair. None of this had the power to hurt me—at least, it wasn’t supposed to. So why did I feel so damn miserable? How had I let things with Sam crawl past the physical line and into no man’s land?

And that fucking condom! If that wasn’t a red flag right there, I didn’t know what was. Talk about trust; I couldn’t even count on my own judgment to remember a piece of latex!

When Sam hadn’t called by midday, the afternoon turned into an amalgam of anticipation, dread, and a tiny thread of longing that refused to die, despite my best effort to snuff it out.

I had to end things with Sam. Better to break it off now before it got even more complicated.

His call finally came around four o’clock as I was using a toothpick to scrape caked-on food from the rim of my oven door. I know, you don’t need to say it.

“Hi.” That was my opener. Brilliant.

“Hi, Jenna. Are you okay?” Sam’s voice was gentle and it sparked an ache in my chest.

“I’m fine, Sam.” I closed the oven door and leaned against the counter to give the conversation my full attention.

“Listen, can I come over so we can talk face-to-face? I just feel like we should be in the same room.”

I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see it. There was no way I could break things off if he were within touching distance. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I needed to jump right in or I’d lose my nerve. “Sam, we need to stop seeing each other. Last night ...” I paused. “Last night was a wake-up call for me. I can’t afford … anything … last night could lead to.”

“I assume we’re not just talking about pregnancies and STDs here.” It wasn’t a question. He could read me, but I wasn’t going to elaborate.

“Kate and Eileen will be home in a week, and I want to focus on my time with them. I’ve missed them and I want my girls back.” I wanted peace of mind back too, if I’d ever had it in the first place.

“I know.” Sam’s voice was defeated. Then he surprised me with his bluntness. “Do you think you’ll ever be ready?”

My eyes teared up and the kitchen became a blur. “I really can’t say.”

He sighed and we were both quiet for another minute. “You’re a really wonderful guy, Sam. Take care.”

And then I hung up and let the tears take over.

* * *

“There wasn’t supposed to be crying!! No crying!!” Jill’s pace picked up as she laid eyes on my blotchy face.

When she’d called a half hour earlier, I told her Sam and I had broken things off and I was fine. There’s really only so much boo-hooing a sister can be expected to take. My divorce had used up my allotment for the century, so she didn’t need to come hold my hand over some guy I’d only known for a couple weeks.

But here she was. Clearly, she’d used some Jedi mind trick to sense my true mood.

“Sweetie, what in the world happened?” Jill dropped down to the couch next to me. Her arms encircled me and I found my face pressed into her exposed cleavage. For God’s sake. It seemed we’d reached a whole new level of closeness.

“I can’t breathe in here.” My voice was muffled by her tatas. That was some push-up bra she was wearing.

She pulled back. “Sorry. They’ve got a mind of their own.” She pulled the neckline of her top up to provide a hint of modesty, and then grabbed my hand in both of hers. “Now, what happened? I thought things were going well. And the bra and panties …” she trailed off.

I tried to narrow my eyes at her, but they were already so puffy that I doubt she noticed. “About that. You knew those panties were crotchless, didn’t you?”

Her hand flew to her mouth and her eyes practically popped out of their sockets. “Oh my God! They were?” Okay, maybe she hadn’t known.

I closed my eyes at the embarrassing memory. “Yes. And I didn’t find out until … let’s just say, an inopportune moment.” I tilted my head back to rest on the couch cushion before sneaking a glance at my sister.

Jill’s teeth bit into her lip to hide her amusement. After a moment, her brows drew together. “So, wait. You broke up with Sam over a pair of crotchless panties?”

“No. And we didn’t break up. We’d have to be a couple to do that. We just ended things.”

“You mean, you ended things?” She straightened, her look admonishing.

“If you want to get technical.”

“Uh huh.” She scanned my face. “So if you ‘ended things,’ then what’s with all this?” She motioned to my face, which probably resembled a baboon’s ass by this point.

I suddenly wished she hadn’t come over. But since she was here, maybe she could reassure me that I wasn’t crazy. I’d been second-guessing myself all evening and needed someone to tell me I’d made the right move—that the best thing for me to do was focus on myself and my girls. Men were a distraction I wasn’t ready for.

But Sam felt like more than a distraction—which was exactly why I ended things. Tears welled once again as the sound of Sam’s voice played over and over in my head. Do you think you’ll ever be ready?

Jill spotted my shaky lips and pulled me into another hug. God, poor Jill, my human tissue box. I blinked rapidly and managed to allow only a few tears to escape onto her shoulder.

I spoke into the fabric of her shirt. “Jilly, how did Mike move on so quickly after the divorce?” I never understood that. He started dating Kristen before the ink was dry, and they’d gotten married a year ago.

Jill’s head drew back, and her eyes were flinty. “Because that asshole exited your marriage long before you did. I swear, Jenna, if it weren’t for the alimony I’d kill the bastard.”

“Actually, if I remember correctly, half of his life insurance goes to the girls if he kicks it.” God, I was losing my mind.

She seemed to genuinely consider the information, so I shook my head until she shrugged. She released me, and we both sank back into the couch and put our feet on the coffee table. I sighed, my next words coming out just above a whisper. “I like him.”

I felt Jill’s eyes on me. “And what’s so bad about that?”

“I’m not ready to like anyone.” I stared at the empty fireplace in front of me.

“Jenna.” She paused for several moments, gathering her words carefully. “It’s not like a pregnancy test.”

My face screwed up. That was the brilliant statement she’d needed time to formulate?

She continued before I could give her even a look. “You’re never going to get a clear plus sign that you’re ready. It’s not a yes or no. Sometimes you just have to take a chance.”

Okay, obviously the girl had never taken a pregnancy test in her life—which was downright shocking when I thought about it. Those damn things are notorious for producing panic-inducing “maybe” results. The mention of the vile devices brought the incident with Sam and the forgotten condom to the forefront of my mind again. That was one tidbit I was not sharing with my sister.

I shook my head, and Jill must have taken it as a flat rejection of her comment. “You’ve already started taking chances! You slept with the man, for Christ’s sake!” She got to her feet.

I put a hand out to try and calm her down. Geez, she was fired up. “Listen, I understand what you’re saying. I’m just not ready. And the girls …”

“Oh, please.” She threw her own hands out. “The girls would probably be the first ones to tell you to give dating a try. They want you to be happy.”

My back straightened and I pulled my feet off the coffee table. “Oh, really? You think Kate and Eileen would just say, ‘Hey, great going, Mom. Keep on banging this random guy we don’t know!’?”

Jill’s head bobbed back and forth as if giving it actual consideration. “Well, I don’t know that they’d use the term ‘banging,’ but yeah.”

My eyes rolled practically back to my brainstem. “You have lost your damn mind.”

But she wasn’t finished. “Their father is married to another woman. They wouldn’t think it was strange if you started dating someone.”

“And, eventually, I might,” I explained slowly.

“But what about Sam?” Jill’s butt hit the coffee table so she sat facing me. “You said yourself that you like him.”

My voice rose. “He was my reboot guy!”

“So? That doesn’t mean he can’t be your boyfriend!”

I shook my head firmly. “Jill, I’ve already skipped the first one hundred steps you take when developing a relationship. Need I remind you, the man saw me in crotchless panties?!”

Her brows drew together. “The problem is, you haven’t started a relationship for about a hundred years. Things have changed. You’re not an eighteen-year-old with a white-knuckle grip on your virginity anymore. You’re a grown-ass woman who can have sex when she wants, where she wants, and with whomever she wants!”

“Hold on while I stitch that on a pillow.” I sighed and leaned back again. “You’re forgetting that no matter my age, I’m still me. I’m not going to shrug and dive headfirst into something that has the potential to break not only my heart, but the girls’ as well.”

Jill growled in frustration. This was the closest to a fight we’d been in for the longest time. I didn’t usually raise my voice at her, but she didn’t get it. How could she, really?

As if she knew what I was thinking, she lowered her tone and said, “Look, I’ve never been married, but I’ve been in love and had my heart broken. And eventually, I moved on. Life is too short to be so afraid, Jenna.”

I knew we’d just go around in circles if I offered any kind of rebuttal, so I just drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Why don’t we shelf this topic for the time being. I don’t want to fight.”

She sighed and didn’t reply. I grabbed her hands in mine. “I do appreciate you being here for me and caring so much. You know that, right?”

“I know,” she sulked.

“I’m lucky to have a sister who’s willing to not only murder my ex-husband but to act as a dirty-mouthed yenta on my behalf.”

That provoked a small grin. “Shut, up, will you? All this flattery is too much.”

I squeezed her hands. “How about we watch Outlander and have a glass of wine?” It was one of her nights off, after all. Oh. “Shoot. You probably had plans with Hank, didn’t you?” She really was the best.

“No. He’s out of town.” She stood and I let her hands go as she threw a chin toward the TV. “Let’s get our tartan on and maybe we’ll get a peek at Jamie’s ass.”

I smiled, happy we’d set the topic aside for the time being. We settled in with our wine and started the show. A few minutes in, Jill turned to me. “Is it just me, or do Scottish men sound exactly like pirates?”

I threw a pillow and her and finally laughed, knowing that despite any turmoil in my personal life, things with Jill would always be okay.