Chapter 18

18

Mack

My heart feels tender like a bruise as I kiss the kids goodbye and step aside, not wanting to meet Davey's eye. To his credit, he's been in a great mood all day, baking with the kids and building a fort in the living room.

This is a very, very bad idea.

I'd panicked when he said he only had two weeks left with us and texted Luke immediately to demand a date at his earliest convenience. Turns out that was only a few days away, and when I mentioned it to Davey, he didn't even blink.

No jealousy was had.

And that fucking sucks.

What the hell am I going out at all for if he doesn't care? I should be staying home with my family and soaking up all the time we can have together.

I can't shake the melancholy that's kicked in early this time. We haven't told the kids he's leaving again yet, and I selfishly want to make him do it. The thing is, our reduced timeline has screwed me. In my plan to make Davey so jealous he stays, I'd thought it would be a gradual buildup instead of being dumped into the dating waters before I was ready.

And if he doesn't go for it, if he doesn't decide he suddenly needs to stay, then, well, I have to come to terms with packing up our lives to go with him.

The three weeks before he leaves again is nowhere near enough time to get me and the kids organized.

I gnash my teeth over the fact my life is Davey, Davey, Davey, and head for Luke's car. He's pulled up out the front of next door and waited in the driver's seat like I asked him to.

Because Luke is a really, really nice guy.

His smile is automatic when I climb in, eyes sweeping over me in an appreciative way I should like. But I don't.

Little by little, his smile ebbs.

"What's wrong?"

"Davey wasn't jealous."

There's a moment where he twists his mouth from side to side like he's not sure if he should answer or not. "The thing is, you're the one who said you wanted to try a date for real. Just one. So I think if we're going to do that, we need to not talk about Davey."

"But—"

"He's a huge part of your life. I get it. I also know the chances of anything happening here"—he swings a finger between us—"is slim. But if you want to actually try, just once, he needs to be out of the picture. We'll go on a date, we'll get to know each other, because I know there's a lot more about you than your ex-husband, then I'll drop you off and kiss you goodbye. Tomorrow, we'll chat. No matter how tonight ends, we're going to be friends."

The absurdity of the situation hits me all at once, and I start to laugh uncontrollably.

"You okay?" Luke asks, a shadow of his earlier smile popping up.

"Yep. I, uh, I don't know any other single person who'd agree to this. Why the fuck are you helping me?"

He shrugs. "Something to do."

"It's a big something."

Luke groans and drops his forehead against the steering wheel. "Well, you're hot, which definitely helps things, but—and I'm struggling with how to say this without it sounding weird—we're a lot alike." He stops abusing the steering wheel to look at me. "This sounds so stupid with all the drama surrounding your ex, but you don't seem like the kind of guy who likes that. I get the impression you're genuine, with a big heart, who just wants to be loved."

My neck heats under my collar. "Umm … yeah. Those were a lot of words."

"Sorry."

I appreciate everything he's doing for me, so the least I can do is make an effort too. With an almost panicky feeling, I slide the wedding band off my pointer finger and tuck it into my pocket. "I'm ready."

"Then can we go on our date, please?"

"You're the one driving."

He shakes his head, smile eating his face as he pulls out to drive to the restaurant, which, he assured me, does not specialize in foods that will send me to the ER tonight.

I get a flash of waking up to Davey waiting on me, and I hurry to push it out again. Luke made a good point that if I want to give this a real go, Davey can't be on this date with us.

Luke deserves better than that, anyway.

Free Talk is a pretty little place with views of the water. Given it's Saturday, it's already busy, and we trail after the server who leads us to our table. We do the thing where the menus are dropped off and our water glasses are filled, and we nod and say thank you and avoid making eye contact.

Then we're left in silence.

And it occurs to me that the only conversational topics I have in mind involve the D-word.

And I don't mean dick.

"So … dick, huh?"

Luke almost snorts water from his nose. Through the coughing and hurrying to cover his face with a napkin, he gasps out, " What ?"

"I'm sorry, I panicked."

"I figured." He finishes wiping his face and sets the napkin down. "Not what I was expecting you to say in a very full restaurant."

I palm my forehead. "I'm out of practice."

"And that was where you thought you should start?"

My cheeks are burning, but Luke's surprise gives way to amusement.

"So … about them." He pumps his eyebrows, and it helps me relax again.

"We are not off to a good start."

"Eh. I'm enjoying myself, and isn't that the whole point of dates?"

"I guess so."

Luke risks another sip of his water. "Now we've established where your mind is at, tell me some other cool stuff about you."

"I don't have anything cool, but …" I sift through my brain, trying to figure it out. The main things that jump out are Davey's work, the kids, Davey leaving, Davey dating, loving Davey. Fuck. When did that become my whole life? Talking about myself should be easy. The thing about being me is that I should know more about me than anyone, but I don't know anything at all.

Do … do I even exist?

I meet Luke's eyes. "I'm having the dawning realization that I don't actually have much of a life."

"What do you mean?"

"Tell me something about you. Really quick."

"I love cats."

"There. See?" I point at him. "That was so easy for you. I've sat here for, well, at least a minute, and I've got nothing."

"There's no way that's true."

"Apparently, I'm not a person anymore."

"Well, you're not a robot, so …"

"This is serious."

Luke reaches over to take my hand. He gives it a squeeze, and it feels nice. Surprisingly. "I imagine as a parent—a single parent most of the time—that you don't put much thought into yourself. But you're still you. That hasn't changed. I guess maybe you just need to remember who that person is."

I exhale deeply and tug my hand back. "Thanks. You're right."

"You like the Hobbit," he finally says.

"Yeah. Originally, it was The Lord of the Rings movies that got me into it all, but when I like something, I usually latch onto it. Went through so many behind-the-scenes videos, character interviews, then moved on to Tolkien biographies and loved all the stuff on the languages he created. I read the books, and then I read The Hobbit , and I dunno, I just loved it. It gave so much more context than the movies." I cut off when I realize I've said a lot of dumb words.

"That's so cool. Sometimes the background info on how something came to be makes it even more meaningful."

"Exactly."

"Is that why you work at the library?"

I take a drink, wondering how to structure my response without Davey coming into it. "Given I'm alone a lot of the time and my friends all work, once Kiera started school and Van was ready to be around kids his own age …" I lift a shoulder. "Needed something to do with my life. The job came up when I was searching, and it sounded perfect."

"Do you enjoy it?"

"I love it, actually." I think about the huge old building. The stacks of books. The wacky people we have in and the wild kids who either hang on to your every word when you read to them or tear the room apart. The more I think, the more I wonder if I really could walk away from all of that.

But … the alternative is losing Davey.

"Uh-uh," Luke jumps in. "I'm losing you."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. If I see you slip, I'll remind you again. I've got you."

"Thanks."

The waiter comes to take our orders, and the more we talk, the easier it gets, and the faster time gets away from us. Luke is right that he's a pretty open guy, and he knows exactly the right thing to ask or say in order to bring my personality out. Instead of leaving the date thinking I'm an empty shell of a man, my dusty brain is clicking over, and I'm remembering who I used to be.

Somewhere along the line, I lost that.

Now, I'm excited to find that person again.

With Davey, without him, that part is all still a mystery.

All I know is that I enjoyed myself with Luke, and while this isn't heading anywhere romantically, I like him enough that I need the night to think about it.

We pull up in front of my neighbor's house again, Luke creeping the car along so that we don't wake anyone up. It's almost midnight; we'd been talking so much, and I'm glad I got up the nerve to go.

"Whether you want to do that again or not," he says, putting the car in park, "I had fun."

"Me too."

"I hope you think some more. You're a cool person, and I know it sucks to feel lost and whatever, but you're not, really. Just … hiding." He grins, and I like that way of thinking about it.

"I'm glad we're friends."

His smile hitches, like he knows without me having to say much at all. "I'm pretty sure I said our date would end with a kiss good night."

The words settle between us. I'm weirdly nervous, and I'm not sure if it's because I want him to kiss me or I don't. The thing is, I didn't want to do any of this tonight, but I'm so glad I did. I'm walking away with a full brain and a lot of questions I wouldn't have if Luke didn't push me.

Do I want to kiss him? Not overly. But this is all part of it, isn't it?

Am I ready to move on?

Can I do it ?

I like Luke as much as anybody, so kissing him will help me work out whether I'm wasting my time here. Can I really be open to someone who isn't Davey?

I fill my lungs and lean toward him.

Luke meets me halfway, our lips touching over the center console of his Ford something-or-other. I'm expecting more nerves. Butterflies, whatever. Instead, all I get is disappointment.

We both pull back at the same time, and he gives me a sad smile.

"We can't say we didn't try," he says. "I really, really hope you can work things out with Davey."

"Thank you."

Then I climb out of the car, for the first time in my life thinking clearer than I ever have. I can be open to someone who isn't Davey. I just don't want to.

I'm done expecting Davey to solve our problems for us.

It's my turn to fix things.