Work today has been more stressful than usual in that there were two cases with complications I didn’t expect. One of the men almost died on the table from cardiac arrest and the other wouldn’t stop bleeding. It was a mess. So now, despite the cold, I’m sitting outside on my usual bench that faces the parking lot, trying to relax before I drive home. The trees, clinging to a few stubborn leaves, dot the landscape between the building and parking lot while the crows perch in the empty branches and squawk at each other. I sit here often to unwind before getting in my car to drive. I’m only there 10 minutes when a familiar voice pulls my attention away from the crows.

“Valerie.”

I glance up and find Victor, Javier’s brother’s friend, standing above me with the grin of a wayward boy on his handsome face. He’s tall, but not as tall as Javier, and leaner. His dark hair is cropped close to his head and instead of the brown eyes his friends have, he has piercing hazel eyes that stop you in your tracks. My hunch is that one of his parents is Caucasian and the other Latino, giving him that mesmerizing combination of dark hair, caramel skin and light eyes. Seeing him dressed in a suit rather than the usual jeans and T-shirts I see here all the time, I can’t help but admire him.

“What are you doing here, Victor?”

“Hearing test. They have to check my hearing every so often and adjust my hearing aids.”

“I didn’t even notice you had any.” He tilts his head so I can see them and I recognize them immediately. “Those are the best brand on the market. They have the app for the phone, right?”

“Yeah, I fought the VA until they finally shelled out the money. I had problems with the three different sets before these. They work wonders and are mostly hidden so it’s hard to tell I even have them. What are you doing here?”

“I’m a surgeon here.”

He shakes his head, obviously surprised. “Beautiful and smart. I bet you don’t have a free night until the next millennium.”

“Me? What do you mean?”

“Someone who looks and dances like you and is smart enough to be a surgeon doesn’t usually sit at home in the evenings.”

“Maybe not, but I do, except when I have my daughter. She’s not one for sitting around.”

“Well I think it’s possible to remedy that. What are you doing tomorrow night?”

“I have my daughter.”

“The next night?”

I shake my head. Is he really asking me out? It feels so weird considering it’s been so long since I’ve been asked out on a date. I vaguely wonder what Javier will think of that since he didn’t like it when I danced with Victor or when Ricardo was hitting on me. But if Javier was interested in me for more than his friend he would’ve asked me out, he had plenty of opportunity, so it doesn’t matter what he thinks.

“Thea’s staying with a friend, which means I’m free.”

“Can I take you out for dinner and dancing?”

It’s been awhile since I’ve had a date at all, much less one like that. Dancing with him and Javier at the Suarez house last week was so much fun.

“I’d love it. What time should I be ready and what should I wear?”

“How about seven. A dress. I’ll take you to the Spanish-American club. The food is fantastic and the music on Friday nights is perfect for dancing. Here,” he says as he hands me his cell phone, “type in your address and phone number.”

After another minute of chit-chat, he excuses himself.

* * *

Date night arrives and I’m a bundle of nerves. I’ve tried on every dress I own and after a Skype chat with Summer, I made an emergency run to the store to buy a new dress. After multiple texts and changing-room selfies I ended up with a pair of silver slingback pumps and a sexy red wrap dress that’s a little shorter than I normally wear and a lot lower on the cleavage. Summer coached me to buy some special tape so a boob doesn’t come flying out.

Once I’m finally done dressing and ready to go I realize that I’m so nervous my hands are shaking. Not that Victor necessarily makes me nervous, but I haven’t been on a date since Bill Clinton was president and I have no idea what the expectations are. What if he expects me to sleep with him? I mean, I did get a little crazy with Javier, but it was Javier and something about him makes me feel less anxious, not more. I wasn’t nervous or afraid, except maybe about getting caught having sex in the store room. That would have been humiliating.

I don’t know Victor. Hell, this could be his thing, taking a woman out to dinner and dancing with the expectation of getting her between the sheets. Javier did say that was Ricardo’s thing, so maybe it’s Victor’s too. I’m mentally unprepared for this whole scenario. Maybe I should cancel. Maybe this dress screams things I’m not ready for. Lord knows even as handsome as Victor is I don’t want to have sex with him. Do I have time to change?

The doorbell rings in the middle of my freak-out and I freeze. If I don’t answer it none of this will be an issue. Of course, that would be rude, which isn’t part of my usual personality, but it would make things easier for now. What was I thinking accepting this date? I’m still technically married for goodness sakes.

The doorbell rings again and I know I can’t hide like a coward. I need to answer and explain that I can’t go out. I could say I’m not feeling well. Yeah, that will work.

I open the door and Victor stands in front of me dressed in the sexiest black suit I’ve ever seen, sans tie, and an expression on his face that says he’d like to eat me for dinner. I’m struck stupid for a second. How did that happen? I’m a strong, intelligent woman. I rarely run out of things to say, but right now, with him standing in my doorway looking like he does, I can’t find any words.

“Valerie, you in that dress is more than I imagined tonight. Beautiful.” He doesn’t wait for my invitation but steps inside, closing the door behind him and bringing my hand to his lips for a kiss. Wow. He’s smooth. I can’t even get my excuse out.

“Are you ready?” He studies me intently, waiting for my response.

I nod, not sure if I’m ready, but certain that I should go through with it. I snag my coat, which he helps me put on, my purse and my keys off the table, lock the door and follow him outside. He leads me to his slick little black sports car and opens the door for me to climb in. The scent of his cologne is a little heavy in the confined space; thank goodness it’s at least a scent I like.

As he drives us to the Spanish-American Club he tells me about himself. Because he’s polished and so well-spoken I shouldn’t be surprised when I find out he’s an estate lawyer working in a satellite office here in town for a Denver firm. Victor’s handsome, seriously handsome, but something seems to be missing. Almost as if everything about him looks good on paper, but when you bring him to life he’s flat. There’s no passion, no fire.

I’m starting to calm down by the time we arrive, allowing my confidence to return. Like any gentleman would, he helps me out of the car and leads me to the door with a hand at the small of my back. When we step inside the reception area of the building he takes my coat and checks it in at the coatroom. Then he takes my hand and guides me into the beautiful cavernous ballroom. The large wooden dance floor is in the middle of the room and it’s surrounded on all sides by round tables for two or four with classy table settings and large, silver and blue centerpieces. The set-up is similar to what you’d find at a wedding reception, except with smaller tables. Enormous chandeliers made of glass and mirrors hang from the celling throughout the room, providing the perfect mood lighting for a dinner and dance. All of the men are dressed in suits while the ladies are in elegant evening attire—mostly dresses but a few dressy pantsuits can be seen.

Victor leads me to the fourth table to the left and pulls my chair out for me. I can tell that other people have been sitting at the tables around us and some have eaten, their plates not cleared yet, but we’re the only people in this section at this time. A waiter sets the menu in front of me and fills my water glass while we decide what we want. I relay to Victor that I’d like a glass of moscato and the prime rib, and he orders for us.

Through dinner we make small talk, keeping things very surface. Victor fidgets with the stem of his wine glass and the nervous gesture seems out of character for a guy so smooth. I’d love to ask him what’s making him nervous but I’m not sure that’s okay to do. I hate not knowing the rules of dating. Ron and I were married for so long that if something was up with Ron, I’d just ask. There was no tiptoeing around this stuff.

Once our plates are cleared he asks me to dance. In his arms, I remember that dancing is something Victor excels at, and although I’m having a very good time, I realize I had nothing to worry about. Don’t get me wrong, he’s hot enough to be on the cover of a most-eligible-bachelor calendar, but I’m not even slightly tempted by him. It won’t be difficult to turn him down if he makes a move to take it to the next level. While I’m having a great time there’s a spark missing, but that doesn’t mean I’m not enjoying it. Though nothing about his demeanor tonight suggests he’ll come on strong at the end of the night. In fact, everything about this date is structured. It’s almost like he read an instruction manual for the perfect date and is executing it step by step.

We’re into the third dance of the night when I spot Javier strolling through the door with a young blond beauty on his arm. His smile is warm and bright as he greets an older couple near the door while his date hangs on his arm, studying her manicure instead of engaging the couple in front of them. She’s not at all what I would expect for him. As boisterous and full of life as he is, I figured he probably dates high-energy, smiley, sexy women, not bored, barely legal, spoiled young girls. Even over the music I can hear Javier’s laugh, a laugh that has held me captive since the moment I first heard it through the phone, and I can’t help but glance over at him again.

For a second I’m taken back to the benefit when I first danced with him. Warmth spreads throughout my body as I think about how well I fit in his arms and how smooth he is on his feet. Don’t get me wrong, Victor’s no slouch, he’s an excellent dancer, but like I said, something’s missing.

Victor glances over his shoulder and then pulls me in close to ask, “Do you want to go say hello before you trip over your feet?”

“What?” I stare at him, a little embarrassed at being caught.

“It’s okay. I know you guys are friends. We can go say hello when this song ends,” he says.

“Oh, that’s not necessary. I’m sure we’ll see him at some point.” I drag my eyes away from Javier and his date again and pull my attention back to Victor. There’s no reason for me to be concerned about who Javier’s date is or the fact that she’s so young or how amazing his laugh is and how warm his smile is. Ugh. I’m on a date with another man. Why do I care that Javier reeks of fire and passion for life in a way no one else I know does? And why do I care that his date looks like she should be on an MTV reality show rather than on Javier’s arm as his date?

We dance through one more song and then Victor leads me off the dance floor toward our table where he pulls my chair out again. Ever the gentleman, he leaves me to rest while he goes to the bar to get fresh drinks since there isn’t a waiter in sight.

I’m only sitting there for a minute or so when the air around me changes, thickening and warming. I’ve never had that happen before and I turn to see what may have caused such a feeling. I jump, startled to find Javier standing behind my chair glaring holes through my head with his child-date next to him.

“Good evening, Javier,” I greet as sweetly as possible, struggling to keep the sour look off of my face as I study his date up close.

Without even a hello, he blurts, “You’re out with Victor?” The anger is sizzling off him and I can’t for the life of me understand why.

“Yes.” I turn to his date and stand, putting my hand out between us. “Hi, I’m Valerie, a client of Javier’s.”

His eyes narrow on me when I say client. “I’d say we’re more than that, Valerie,” he says not hiding the irritation at all.

My eyebrows rise. Is he ready to lay claim to me right here when he’s with another woman and I’m out with Victor? I doubt it. “Sorry, yes, I’d say we’re friends now too,” I correct.

“Marcy,” she responds with no welcome in her voice. Instead of a regular handshake I get a limp finger-shake. I hate when people shake like that. Just grab a hand and give it a good squeeze. It shows character and manners. She obviously has neither.

“How did this happen?” he asks, waving between me and Victor who’s still standing in line at the bar.

“I was outside of work when he saw me and invited me out for tonight. It’s been awhile since I was on a date so I accepted. He’s been the perfect gentleman.”

“I bet he has,” Javier grumbles, and I notice Marcy is back to studying her nails. Wow! What a bore, not someone I would’ve expected him to be out with. Beautiful or not, she’s lacking a personality.

“What’s the problem, Javier?” I squint my eyes at him as I try to rein in my rapidly growing temper. I’m a grown-ass woman who doesn’t need anyone’s permission to go out on a date.

“Him, really?”

“What’s wrong with him? Isn’t he your brother’s best friend?”

“He is, which means I know more about him than I want to. I’m not sure this was your best choice.”

Victor walks up behind Javier and if looks could kill, Javier would be dead.

“So, Javier, why don’t you enlighten the lady on why I’m such a bad choice for a date. I can’t wait to hear this one. Could it be that I’m a widower? Or could it be that I make a six-figure salary and rarely get a chance to spend it on anyone other than my mother? Or could it be something even more sinister like when I was in the ninth grade I made out with your sister behind the bleachers? I’m a bad man, she never should’ve accepted this date.” His sarcasm is thick and if flames could shoot out of Victor’s eyes the whole place would be embers. Javier has the decency to look ashamed.

He’s a widower? We covered quite a bit of ground tonight; it seems like that’s something he should’ve at least mentioned. Besides, he’s far too young to have lost a wife. I wonder how long it’s been since he’s been on a date and how long his wife’s been gone.

“That’s not what I meant, man. I’m sorry. I should’ve kept my mouth shut.” Javier is suddenly backpedaling, his former anger gone.

“Yeah, you should have. You don’t know everything, Javie, and I would’ve liked to tell my date those things without an audience.”

Javier steps in close to Victor, remorse written all over him, and leans in for a back-pat-guy-hug. I can’t hear what’s said in Victor’s ear, but I imagine it’s an apology. When they pull away Javier introduces Marcy, and Victor greets her with only a short nod in her direction. Then he steps around her and reaches for me, asking, “You want to dance some more?”

“Um, yes, sounds good, but I’d like a drink of water before I do.” I glance between him and Marcy, who doesn’t even seem fazed that he dismissed her. Weird.

“I’m sorry, I set our drinks on the table behind Javier.”

He reaches around them and grabs our drinks. We all stand there awkwardly as Victor and I drink our water. Out of the corner of my eye I can tell that Javier is staring, hoping I’ll turn and give him my attention, but I can’t. I’m angry that he’d try to embarrass me and his friend like that. Especially when he’s made it clear that he doesn’t want me for anything more than a good time or two. It would be wonderful if I didn’t care, but it’s eating at me and I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of my attention.

When we’re done with our water, Victor leads me to the dance floor for a slow song and draws me in against him. My heels bring us closer in height, making it easier to converse. The revelation of his deceased wife and lack of dating life has helped me to relax further. I no longer feel the pressure I did before he arrived at my place.

“I’m sorry about Javier,” he says. “I’m not sure what that was all about except I clearly have the better date. Did they even card her when she walked in?”

I laugh out loud. “I noticed you didn’t seem fond of her.”

“I don’t know her, but I know Javie and she means nothing to him so I’m not going to bother to get to know her. I realize that sounds rude, but I know her type and she doesn’t care either.”

“Oh.” I’m not sure what to say to that or his suddenly dark mood so I go where he leads, both with the conversation and the dance. It seems he’s gearing up for something but is unsure of how to say it. “My wife died of cancer about three years ago. I haven’t dated at all because no one caught my attention the way Carol did, so I avoided it. We didn’t have any kids so I’ve been married to my work since she died. I didn’t want to bring the mood of a lovely date to such a dark place, which is why I didn’t tell you. After he brought it up I felt like you deserved to know, but I could kill Javier for mentioning it.”

I stop moving and step back so I can look in his eyes. “I’m honored to be the first since… As a matter of fact, you’re my first real date since my husband walked out on me to live with his girlfriend.” I smile at him, hoping to lighten the mood because what else can I do? Between the two of us we have the sob-story sector covered.

“I can take you home if it’s weird now,” he tells me.

“No way. It’s rare that I get to dance like this. I’ve always loved it, but my ex had two left feet so we never did. You’re an amazing dancer. I’d be stupid to pass up this opportunity.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, a small grin starting.

“Absolutely.”

Without another word he picks up he beat to the salsa song that just started and we dance until we’re the last ones on the dance floor. I do my best to avoid looking for Javier and his child-date the rest of night and mostly succeed, well, at least until I hear his laughter. At those times, I find myself staring right at him.

At the end of the night Victor walks me to my door and instead of kissing me on the mouth he kisses my forehead. “I’m so lucky you said yes, that you were the first dance and first date after Carol. I enjoyed your beauty and your company tonight, but I think we both know that neither of us is ready for more. However, I’d love to take you dancing again sometime, as friends. It felt so good to move to the music with a beautiful woman against me and to forget to be sad even for a little while.”

The sadness in his eyes breaks my heart a little. I’m so glad I came on this date despite my earlier freak-out and the awkward mess with Javier. “You’re such an amazing guy and I love that you’re honest about not being ready. I’d love to dance or go to a movie or just hang out as friends any time. It was nice for me too. Thank you.” One side of his mouth lifts a little but the sadness in his eyes still lingers.

“Good night, Valerie,” he whispers as he kisses my cheek.

“Night, Victor,” I say before I disappear behind the door.

* * *

An hour later my makeup is off and I’ve changed into some comfy pajamas and I’m reading my book. This story is hot. When Barb recommended it to me I scoffed a little, thinking it’d be just another trashy novel, but I can’t put the damn thing down and the worst part is it’s turning me on. The sex scenes are the kind every woman dreams of having with some overbearing, super sexy alpha male that they could never live with but want to have fantasy sex with. Why did she recommend this book when she knew I had no one to help me with the aftereffects?

The doorbell rings, startling me, and I set the book down on the coffee table. Who the hell is here at this hour? I look through the peephole and see Javier dressed like he just dropped his date off and came here. What does he want?

I’m scowling when I open the door a little.

His eyebrows are drawn low when he asks, “Hey, can I come in?”

I’m not wearing a robe or a bra so I let him in with a sigh and cross my arms over my chest. My boobs may not be big but it’s obvious I’m not wearing anything under my shirt. “Is everything okay?” I ask, still wondering why he’s here.

“I’m here to apologize to you about tonight. I told Vic I was sorry, but I didn’t say anything to you.”

“Okay, I’m not sure where all of that came from, but I accept. You could’ve called, you didn’t have to come over. I’m sure your date’s not happy you’re here.”

“I didn’t bring her.”

I tilt my head waiting for him to continue.

“I wanted to see you.”

I take a deep breath, unsure of what to say to that so I stay quiet, waiting to see if he’s going to add more.

“Are you going to see him again?” he asks and steps in a little closer.

“Yes… I mean, no. I mean…yes, but only as friends. He just wants to be friends, he’s not ready to date,” I answer honestly. I don’t mention that I don’t want to date Victor either.

Javier steps closer and I step back because it feels too close. After reading that damn book and having him—this enormous, sexy male specimen—right in front of me makes my skin overheat in a way it hasn’t since the night we spent together at his place. The memory of that brings the warmth to my cheeks and I’m afraid if I speak I’ll beg him to fuck me. That thought has never crossed my mind with any man—not even Ron—until Javier and I’m so glad no one can read my thoughts. I’d die of embarrassment.

“Do you want Victor, Val?” he asks, the rumble of his voice vibrating my very core.

I shake my head but don’t open my mouth, still afraid of what I might say that I’ll regret later.

He moves in a little closer and this time I don’t back away. I want to smell his cologne and feel the heat of his body close to mine. If I were taking what I truly want though, I’d run my fingers through his hair and pull him to me for one of his mind-bending kisses.

“I dropped Marcy off because she wasn’t the woman I wanted to be with tonight.” He reaches out and gently pushes my hair over my shoulder and I shudder at the graze of his knuckles along my neck.

“She wasn’t?” I squeak. Please, please, please let him say what I think he’s about to say. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. If he doesn’t say that it’s me he wants I swear I’ll spontaneously combust right inside my doorway.

Before I open my eyes, his mouth is on mine, his hands in my hair holding me while he controls the kiss. His tongue is aggressive as it pushes inside my mouth and I moan as I accept it. My breasts grow heavier with need, my nipples pearling against the thin fabric of my pajama top. The kiss becomes more in a way I simply can’t explain. I just know that I need him now. I don’t care that this could be another one-night thing, I don’t care that it’ll be awkward when I see him next or that once again his signals are mixed. All that I care about is getting him inside me. One of his hands slips down between us to graze my breast and I groan, arching into the touch. His other hand grips my hair and yanks my head back and tingles race to my clit priming my sex for what’s to come.

“More?” he asks.

Is that really a question? “Yes,” I breathe.

“You know that’s all it can be, right?”

“Don’t care, I’m ready,” I say.

“Thank fuck!” he growls and pushes me against the wall as his mouth is back on mine. I can hear the buckle of his belt clink as he undoes it without breaking our connection, so I shove my pants and panties down and wiggle out of them. The fabric of his pants brushes my legs as he lowers them and I squirm in anticipation. I’m lucky enough to know what’s coming and I’m dying for it, for him.

Breaking our kiss, he leans back a little and yanks my top over my head so I’m standing before him wearing nothing, my breasts heaving with the excitement of the moment. He’s still mostly dressed and normally this would bother me because I like flesh on flesh during sex but I’m too damn needy to care. I reach between us and grab hold of his cock, finding that it’s thicker than I remember, and I squeeze. His mouth captures mine again as I slide my hand up and down his heated flesh. He grabs my wrist to stop me and when I protest, he whispers, “Condom.”

I let go, ready for the main event and knowing that once he rolls that condom on I’ll get what I’m practically begging to have. I feel him fidget a little and then both hands come up under my arms and lift. “Wrap your legs around me, bella,” he commands.

I do it and lock my ankles at the small of his back. He leans in, pressing his forehead to the wall next to my neck and thrusts inside me fast and hard, jolting me upward, my skin burning a little as it rubs against the wall.

“Fuck,” he growls, and I clench around him, giving him pause.

While I’m waiting, I slip my hands up under his shirt to feel his skin, and then he begins to move, thrusting harder than I’ve ever taken it before. I score his back with my nails, probably breaking the skin, but unable to stop my reaction. The fullness, the pain mixed with pleasure, and the fact that I’m getting fucked against a wall for the first time in my life all has me so turned on I’m coming in just a few minutes’ time.

Javier continues his beautiful brutal rhythm and another orgasm begins to build. I don’t think I can take another one. The last one was so powerful I’m having a hard time holding on.

“Javier,” I moan against his ear pleading, but I don’t know if it’s for him to go harder or stop altogether. Before I can put much thought into it his beard scratches the sensitive skin along my neck right before his hungry lips touch the skin. The abrasiveness of his beard is just enough to push me over the edge again and for the first time in my life I scream someone’s name during sex. If I could hold a coherent thought I’d probably be embarrassed, but honestly there’s no way I could control my reaction. This is my first back-to-back orgasm and it’s absolutely fucking amazing. I didn’t know the back-to-back was a real thing, never imagined how damn good it could feel. Before this, it was hard enough to have one, the idea of one after the other is mind-blowing.

“Val, oh God, I’m coming, Val, Val, Val…” he trails off as his hips slow their thrusts. I stay locked around him like a koala, kissing his throat and running my fingers through his long hair for a minute or two. Finally, he lifts me up and away by my thighs and lowers me to my feet with my back still against the wall.

“Trash,” is all he says and I point to the kitchen. Tugging up his pants and boxers, he shuffles in the direction I sent him.

“Under the sink, right side,” I call out. All the heat and excitement from a moment ago is dissipating as the hormone-high I was riding is leaving me rapidly. Now I feel a little lost.

When he returns to me I’m shrugging my top back on. I’ve never done anything like that so I have no idea what to expect. I also have no idea what he’s thinking and I’m suddenly insecure. I bend over to grab my panties and pajama pants, and pull them back into place. When I look up, he’s finished tucking his shirt back in and getting straightened up. What the hell do I say in this situation? He was clear before we went at each other like lust-crazed freaks that this was only a hook-up. Do I ask him to stay? Do I send him out the door? There needs to be a single woman’s handbook to address these things.

Javier steps close to me, the earlier tension sated now, his eyes soft, almost tender as he brushes my hair away from my face. Before I can tell him how uncomfortable I am he leans in and kisses my cheek quickly and says, “I’m sorry.” I don’t even get a chance to ask for what because he’s out the door and almost to his car before I can react.

What’s he sorry for? Is he sorry he gave me the most exciting sexual experience I’ve ever had, or is he sorry he came here at all, or is he sorry about what happened with Victor? I have no clue because he took off before I could figure it out.

I’m pissed at myself for letting that happen and I’m pissed at him for not being man enough to stay long enough to explain. I hate feeling like someone’s mistake. How will I face him if I see him again?

* * *

Two days later I get a text from Javier asking to meet me at Hector’s. Although I’m still pissed and hurt by his behavior following our last encounter, I accept the invite. They say curiosity killed the cat. I’ve turned it over in my head repeatedly, trying to figure out why he practically ran out of my house like that. I knew in advance not to expect anything from it, but running out the door with an unexplained apology was the wrong move. It left me feeling insecure and uncomfortable, which are two things I hate.

My shoulders are stiff with tension when I arrive. He rises from his seat, kisses my cheek and waves toward the other side of the booth for me to sit down. Pedro comes over and gets our order and leaves. I sit quietly, trying to figure out why I’m here.

“I’m sorry about the other night,” he says as he looks up from his fingers where he’s flipping a chip over and over.

“You said that before you hauled ass out the door. I can’t figure out if you’re sorry you screwed me or if you’re sorry you took off with barely a word.” I chew on my bottom lip, waiting for him to elaborate. This is so uncomfortable.

“I should never have shown up or jumped on you.”

My stomach sinks. I didn’t expect anything to come of it, but for him to totally regret it is a slap in the face. I narrow my eyes on him and ask, “Do you call all your one-night stands to meet you for tacos so you can tell them how much you regret it?” I can’t keep the bite out of my tone.

“I don’t regret it. Well, I do, but not…”

“Javier, you’re pissing me off. I get that you wish it didn’t happen. Couldn’t you leave it at that instead of trying to make me feel like shit about it? Have some heart.”

His head jerks back. “You’re not upset it happened?”

“I told you I understood it wasn’t a commitment. I may be a little naive but I’m not stupid. I wasn’t upset about the sex. I was upset that you regretted it so much that you couldn’t even say a nice goodbye. You apologized and hauled ass like you thought I’d tie you up in the basement and make you marry me or something idiotic. That was insulting.”

He sits back in his seat, speechless. I wait him out. I said what I had to say, so it’s his turn.

“I thought I took advantage of you. I felt like I couldn’t control it and when it was done I felt guilty.”

“I knew exactly what that was and I went along with it, enjoyed it even.”

“You did?”

“Oh my God. You’re killing me. I’m not some delicate flower. I wanted it, I got it, I knew what the rules were. The end. The way you’re acting now, after the fact, is the only thing that’s pissing me off.”

“Oh.” He’s looking at me like I’m some kind of alien. I’m not going to sit through an entire lunch like this so I grab my coat and purse and slide out of the booth. I get about three steps away and I feel his hand clamp down on my arm.

“Wait. I’m sorry, I just thought… Never mind what I thought. I’m sorry for all of it. Come back and sit down. If you’re okay being friends, I want that.”

Reluctantly, I sit back down and it takes a few minutes of awkward conversation to lighten up the mood before I can finally ask him what’s been bugging me since Saturday night.

“Did you take your date home Saturday night before you came to my place because you were worried about her breaking curfew?” He sprays Coke all over the table when he busts up laughing. His warm, loud laughter turns my body inside out almost as much as one of his orgasms. I’ve never had laughter affect me like his does; it’s musical, magical and filled with happiness. I love it even though I’m covered in Coke spray. I grab my napkin from my lap and wipe my arms and chest down. He’s still laughing so I smile at him.

“Why’d you make me laugh right after I took a drink?”

“I wasn’t trying to make you laugh, I really wanted to know about your high school date.”

He grins. “You’re right, bella. She’s young, but not that young. I checked and she’s 21. I won’t be going out with her again, but she was of age so I don’t need to worry about the police showing up to cart me away.”

“Wow, is there a name for men who date much younger women? I know if it were reversed she’d be called a cougar.” More laughter spills out.

“The term is rhino and by definition I guess that night I was a rhino.”

“Rhino? Are you screwing with me?”

“Look it up in Urban Dictionary. You’ll find it. Age doesn’t bother me. Older or younger. I look for what appeals to me and go for it. As long as they aren’t already taken and are of age, that is.”

“I’m sorry to say I can’t see what you saw in Marcy.”

“That was my first and last date with her. When I met her at the post office I thought she was different. Anyway, let’s forget her and have a nice lunch.”

I love how he’s skipping over the subject of Marcy from the post office like he’s leapfrogging out of town. She must have been more of a bore than I suspected. If she was exciting, he never would’ve made it to my house. I smile to myself at the memory of him when I opened the door.

Lunch continues pleasantly and when we’re getting ready to part ways, I say, “Thanks for calling. Your friendship means a lot, even if you keep blurring the lines.” His eyes widen and I can’t help but laugh.

“I’m kidding.” I’m not really kidding, but I don’t want it to be awkward between us. He may say he only wants to be friends, but I can see it in his eyes when he’s with me. He wants more. I just wish I knew what was holding him back. “Thanks for calling. Everything is cool, let’s just move on.”

He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth for a second before he finally nods. “Okay, I can do that. Call me if you need anything.”

“I will.”

With a quick kiss to his cheek I pull my coat on and rush to my car, trying to avoid the sleet that’s making a slushy mess everywhere.

Now that things are settled with him, I think I’ll spend the rest of the day doing something for myself until Thea gets home from her time with her dad. More than anything, I’m tired of the same look I’ve had for the last 10 years. I’m tired of appearing run-down and out-of-date so I spend the afternoon shopping for new clothes and an updated look at a salon. While I’m at the second store of the day, I run into my friend Rebecca, and she ends up joining me. She helps me pick out some clothing that’s flattering and more youthful—but not too young—and talks to the stylist about my hair for 10 minutes before allowing her to get to work.

By the time I’m done, I’m pleased with the look of my long layers streaked throughout with different levels of auburn and caramel highlights. I’m not afraid to say it looks amazing with my skin tone and I feel pretty damn good about it. I can’t remember the last time I came home from the salon excited about the result.

* * *

That evening at eight sharp, Ron walks Thea to the door when it’s time for drop off. When he gets a glimpse of the new me he blurts, “What did you do?”

Before I can answer him, Thea squeals in obvious excitement and pushes past me into the house, “Mom, you look awesome! I love your new hair!”

I smile at Thea. “I brought myself into this decade.” My smile broadens as his confused expression continues. “Same thing for Sunday night?” I ask, hoping to send him on his way. He nods and I finish, “Goodnight, Ron.” As I’m shutting the door he grabs it, halting the progress, and asks, “Why are you changing?” His eyebrows drop low like he’s trying to figure this out.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m not changing, just enhancing. I think I deserve to update things a little in my life. If you stay the same, you’ll get the same results and I really don’t want the same results.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Now he’s not only confused but agitated too.

“Think hard, Ron, and it’ll be obvious. Have a good night. I’ll see you after your next visit.” This time he moves his hand so I can close and lock the door. I strut into the living room with a big smile on my face.

* * *

For the next couple of weeks leading up to Christmas, Ron is nicer than usual and makes sure that he sees me during drop off and pick up. It’s weird and a little unsettling. I keep waiting for him to ask to have Thea at his house Christmas morning, but it never happens. I’m not sure how much more of his lingering I can take and it also makes me wonder where Sheila is in all of this.

The more time I’ve spent away from him, the more clearly I’ve seen him for the asshole he really is, and I wonder how I lasted as long as I did with him. I’m not sure if I overlooked who he was all these years or if he morphed into this person while I was gone, but I’m understanding more and more that I’m getting the better end of the deal with the divorce.

Christmas is quiet with it being only Thea and me. We decorated the tree a couple of weeks ago and she seemed a little melancholy while we were doing it so I wasn’t sure how she was going to be the day of. I get up early that morning out of habit and turn on both the lights to the tree and the Christmas music. Then I bake cinnamon rolls like I do every year when I’m home. After that I sit on the couch sipping my coffee until Thea shuffles from her room looking sleepy and rumpled.

“Merry Christmas, Muffin!”

“Merry Christmas, Mom. How long have you been up?”

“A couple of hours. Cinnamon rolls are on the stove when you’re ready.”

“You made cinnamon rolls?” Her eyes widen.

“Of course, that’s what I always do.”

“I wasn’t sure since Dad’s not here.”

“It’s still Christmas and I’m still excited to spend it with you, so of course I’m going to do the things I love.”

She smiles the first real smile I’ve seen since the decorations came out. “Dad changed everything. He did it Sheila’s way last year so I thought you’d change too.”

“They can do whatever they want, but at my house it’s cinnamon rolls, Christmas music, presents, and then Christmas movies all day long. Of course, we’ll have Chinese food for dinner since I found a place that’s open.”

When she steps all the way in front of the tree her eyes bug out of her head. “Mom, where did all these presents come from?”

“The same place they’ve come from every year since you were born. Santa.”

Her eyebrow raises. “Be serious, Mom.”

“I’ve been good all year so Santa still comes to my house,” I tell her and take a sip of my coffee.

Bending down to look at the tags on the presents, she says, “Almost all of these are for me.”

“Grandma and Grandpa, Uncle Mike, Uncle Thomas, and Aunt Summer all sent gifts and then there are the ones from me and Santa.”

“Awesome!” she shouts and plops on the floor next to the tree. She’s in the middle of pulling one out when she pauses. “Mom, I didn’t get you anything. I’m sorry. Dad never took me.” Her jubilant mood from only a second ago slips away and her bottom lip trembles so I get down on my knees on the floor in front of her, leaving my coffee cup on the table.

“You’re my present. This is all I’ve ever wanted. To be with you and see you happy. So, I did get exactly what I wanted.” I lean in and kiss her forehead and before I can pull away she hugs me tight.

“I’m so glad you’re home and you’re not leaving anymore, Mom.”

Tears burn the back of my eyes and throat and I fight them because I don’t want her to see tears today. I want her to have a happy memory.

We spend the rest of the day doing exactly what I said we were going to do and it’s probably the best holiday of my life.