I sat up on the edge of the bed after a particularly dreadful attempt at sleeping. My back cracked in more than one place and I twisted my head side to side to stretch my neck. I sure felt a lot older than the barely thirty years I had under my belt. Two months ago, on my birthday, I’d done nothing to celebrate. I didn’t see anyone, return anyone’s calls, or even leave the house. I couldn’t tell you the last birthday I actually celebrated. Birthdays were never that important to me. Of course, with three younger siblings, perhaps I was forced out of them early. They were all off doing crazy things all around the world. We kept in touch but we weren’t particularly close.

I reached for my phone to check the time. I actually managed to sleep in. Well, it was 9:30 a.m. So I mean, more than usual. I checked my email. Oh, yay, notes on the first draft are in. At least it was something to keep me occupied with for a while. I’ll start on those later today. I checked my text messages.

I supposed I should do that. I hadn’t been there yet, and I’d kept myself hulled up in my house for the last week. I couldn’t make excuses to her forever. I thought maybe I was avoiding another random run-in with Samuel. I had no idea what got into me when I invited them in for dinner. I didn’t do that sort of thing. I spent the entire night after they left fussing at myself.

I would be keeping a distance from Samuel the extremely attractive professor-neighbor-single dad. It spelled drama and I wanted no part of it. I had given it a lot of thought and dating wasn’t in the cards. Not any time soon. I couldn’t fathom it. I was going to keep my nose in my writing for the foreseeable future.

* * *

I arrived at Emma’s studio around eleven. It was an adorable store-front shop. Emma made it light and inviting. Everything was white accented in teal. So clean and comfortable. The front lobby area featured white washed antique furniture, teal and black accents, and dark wood flooring. No wonder she put together my house with ease. She had a knack for this, that much was certain.

“Delilah!” she called out as I walked toward the front desk area.

“Hi, Emma.” I gave a smile. I couldn’t help it.

She checked her watch and suggested we get lunch before her next appointment. Considering the fact that I skipped breakfast, that sounded amazing. We walked next door to the little café where she was obviously known. This was probably her regular spot. Everyone greeted her by her first name and countless smiles were exchanged. She made her way to a corner booth, introducing me to everyone along the way. There was a certain kind of hospitality present in the South you just couldn’t find anywhere else.

“So how are the revisions on your first draft coming?” she asked as we took our seats.

“I just got the notes back this morning so I haven’t started yet. They should be good though. My editor and I are pretty synced up on most things,” I said.

“Oh, I’m so excited! I can’t wait to read it,” she said.

“Yeah, me either.” I feigned excitement.

“Do you have anything new you’re working on?” she asked.

I think she thought I was a book machine sometimes. I wonder if she even knew how long it took to write a novel in its entirety. My guess was she didn’t, but she was just making chit-chat. No need to explain. “Umm, no, not yet. It will probably be a few months. I’m always jotting down thoughts and ideas, but right now I have nothing concrete.”

The waitress came and took our orders, and then we ate mostly in silence. I was never much of a “talk while eating” kind of person and Emma knew that. We finished up, and I paid for lunch. Emma always hated when I did that but always joked, “Well, you are rich, so I might as well let you.” No, I wasn’t really rich, given that when I think of rich, I think of royalty and oil tycoons. Although, my success in writing had granted me the ability to live more than comfortably. I wasn’t raised to spend money like crazy, and for most of my marriage up until I began to write, Jeff and I were working middle class. We had what we needed, a little of what we wanted, and a little in savings. In comparison to most in my position, I lived modestly. I splurged modestly, only when I really wanted something, but not on typical things someone would think of. I had amassed quite a library and aside from that, an occasional trip to the tattoo shop. That was me in a nutshell. Paper and ink.

We walked back over to her studio, where her next appointment was already waiting. It was a young couple, who appeared to be newly engaged. They spent the entire time completely enthralled with each other. I watched Emma shoot them in several poses. She was so professional and yet completely inviting with them. People just instantly felt comfortable with her. As I watched, I started to wonder if I was ever as enthralled with Jeff. We started dating in college, and truth be told, marriage just seemed like the next step after graduation. We both took middle management jobs in our respective fields, moved to the suburbs, and settled in. We took vacations the first couple of years, then Jeff expressed his interest in a family and that’s when everything changed.

Emma finished up her appointment while I was lost in thought and said goodbye to them at the front counter. Then she gave me a tour of her studio. I think my favorite thing was the bookshelf in the corner she used to display all her cameras. Some were very old. Emma’s interest in photography was evident as far back as I could remember.

I walked over and touched a small digital camera on the shelf. Everything was so nice and neat in its own place.

“Do you still take photos just for fun, too?” I asked.

“You mean when I’m not shooting appointments here in the studio? Of course. I’ll go out some days and take snapshots of whatever stands out to me. It’s just not as often as I used to.”

“That sounds fun.”

“You should come with me sometime! I bet you’d like it,” she said.

“Yeah, maybe I will.”

I hugged Emma goodbye and thanked her for the invitation to come see her studio. “Bring David by this weekend and we’ll all have dinner, okay?” I said.

Emma agreed and I walked to my car, realizing halfway there that I needed more wine. Luckily, there was a liquor store on my way home so I drove straight there.

The doorbell chimed overhead as I walked in and made a beeline for the wine section. Their collection was pretty extensive and I ran my hand over the bottles as I read the labels.

“Oh, hello again, Delilah,” a familiar voice rang out over the wine rack.

I looked up to see Samuel looking at wines on the other side. Well, he was looking at me, not the wines. How had I missed him when I walked in?

“Hi, Samuel.” I kept it short.

“How are you? I haven’t seen you since…”

“I’ve been pretty busy with draft revisions,” I lied.

“I bet that does keep you pretty busy.”

“It sure does.”

“So what’s the occasion?” he asked. “For the wine, I mean.”

“No occasion. Just a woman in need of a glass of wine.” I shrugged and smiled.

“Fair enough. Looking for anything in particular?”

“Well, you have wines here that we didn’t have down in Nashville, so I’m trying to find something local. I like buying local,” I said.

“If I may,” he held a bottle of wine out to me over the rack, “this is from a vineyard just over in Peducah. It’s very good if you like dark, somewhat sweet wines.”

I studied the bottle in his hand. Purple Toad Winery. The label had a cute watercolor frog on it and it was wearing Band-Aids. I giggled as I saw it was called “Black & Bruised”.

“It’s a sweet red blend,” he said.

“I’ll give it a try,” I said, offering a smile.

“You know there’s a little wine bar and restaurant here in town. It’s a nice place. If you’re interested, I’d love to take you sometime,” he said with a genuine smile and comfortable eyes.

This is it, I thought. I knew it was coming, which is why I had done my best to avoid him. But you invited him in for dinner! Ugh, that was so stupid. It was a mistake. I couldn’t possibly say yes. No way. I wasn’t ready for any of this. And as the air grew thick between us, I examined his face much closer than I had before. His deep brown eyes were the kind a girl could find herself gazing into for far too long. His thick brown hair begged for fingertips to play with. His perfect white smile was mesmerizing. And his voice. His voice reminded me of jazz music and cigar rings. Rough but silky. Good Lord, how long have I been staring at him in silence? Nope, no way.

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said with my eyes fixated on everything but his face.

“Why not?” he asked.

The question threw me off. I assumed he would just say okay and back off but he inquired. How do I tell him that I’m broken?

“I just don’t think I should be doing things like that. I mean, I hardly know you and I mean, my divorce just finalized and…”

“So you were married?” he interrupted.

“Yes.”

“And now you’re not?”

“Correct.”

“So you’re single.”

It sounded more like a statement than a question. “Well, yes,” I said.

“And you have the right to have wine and food with whomever you choose?”

“I suppose.”

“But not me?” he asked.

“Well, technically we’ve already had dinner together,” I said.

“So we wouldn’t be doing anything we haven’t already done. It’s settled then,” he said with a broad smile on his face.

Wait, what?! How the hell did he do that? Fuck, what do I say? At this point he had a smug look on his face. He was quite pleased with himself, I could tell. Lacking no other answer, I let my shoulders fall.

“Um, okay. But just friends. Just two friends eating,” I pushed.

“It’s a start,” he said, nodding his head, smiling. “I’ll pick you up on Saturday at 6.” And with that he walked right down the aisle, paused at the check-out counter to make his purchases, and was out the door, all in one smooth motion.

Shock. Yes. I was in shock. I stood in the wine aisle for a full five minutes after he left, holding the bottle he suggested. Just friends. It’s just as friends. I’ll remind him of that when he picks me up.

I checked my phone. It was Wednesday. Three days. Three days to think about what I’d agreed to and how I would get out of it. What have you done, Delilah? Friends. Just friends.