21. Jolene

If he'd pushed after that, I would've had an excuse to never want to see him again. But he had to go and be perfect. After the song ended, he didn't even try to linger, cop a feel, nothing. He just took me back to the table with the others and told us to enjoy the rest of our night.

"Girl, what was he whispering in your ear? From over here, it looked like he was nibbling on your neck." Maeve was all but jumping in her seat.

"You lucky bitch. Freshly divorced and pulled the hottest man in the place, bar none." Sheila teased, making me blush.

"I don't even know what's going on. I told you about him, remember? When he came to the house. Shit, Sheila, why did you kick me again? Anyway, Maeve, he came to question me about beating up that child, and I have to tell you the thoughts that went through my mind that day. If my divorce had been final…"

"What would you have done if your divorce had been final?" I almost gave myself whiplash at the sound of his voice coming from directly behind me. I'm almost certain his smile was way more confident this time like it needed any improvement.

"I…we." I couldn't find the words, and I wished the floor would open up and swallow me whole. "What are you doing here?"

"I was coming to give you my number, but I think I'll do that some other time." He started to walk away. "By the way, how are you ladies getting home tonight?"

"Sheila's husband is picking us up."

"Which means he has to come all the way out here and then go back. Sheila, why don't you call him and tell him you'll be getting a ride home?" He didn't even wait around for an answer; just turned and carried on walking.

"Wait, what does that mean? He doesn't wanna give me his number?"

"Does that look like a man that doesn't want to give you his number? If I were you, I would wear clean drawers for the rest of the week." Maeve was still checking out his ass as he walked into the crowd. I was afraid to move.

"Or none." Sheila cackled like a hen.

"I know that's right." The two of them high-fived each other while I tried to cool down the heat in my cheeks with my hands.

"Well, we might as well go; we've got work to do."

"What work, Maeve?"

She was already gathering her stuff.

"I didn't pay close enough attention when Clay was talking about this guy. We're gonna go do some research because the next motherfucker that step outta line with you gon end up on Uncle Dave's pig farm. Just saying."

Sheila was busy telling Jonathan not to come and I was trying to figure out how to get out of here without being seen by him. Everything about me was a mess. My mind was racing, my heart was pounding, and all I kept wondering was, is this what a rebound feels like?

I don't remember falling in love feeling like this, so it must be something else. I didn't have any of these wild feelings with Kevin. Ah, how could I forget? Perimenopause could be playing a part in my haywire emotions.

Thankfully, he wasn't the one driving us home; thank heaven, it was his driver. That seems so odd, a cop with a driver, but whatever, I had my own problems, so I was in no shape to dwell on his.

The gentleman was personable, and the car, not sure what it was, was nice; I remember cream leather, bottles of water, and other crap back there, but for the life of me, I couldn't tell you what streets we drove or anything else that happened.

The Bobsie twins knew enough not to discuss you know who while his driver was in attendance, so I was left with my own thoughts, which were all going around in circles. I've found more and more lately that the older I get, the more I wish someone would tell me what the hell I'm supposed to do in any given situation.

When I was young, I couldn't wait to get away from adult supervision and authority. But since I reached about thirty-five or so, when life was really kicking my ass with kids and just everyday shit, I wished like hell someone would take over so I could sleep.

We thanked the gentleman and tried to tip him, which he politely refused, so I guess Damon pays him well. The plan had always been for the girls to spend the night, so after we called Jonathan to let him know that we had indeed made it home in one piece and he and Sheila had their annoying lovey-dovey talk that made her giggle like a teenager, we got down to business.

Maeve grabbed her laptop from her overnight bag while Sheila and I took mine and climbed into bed together, sitting side by side on the king-sized bed in the master bedroom that I'd moved back in.

None of us spoke for the first few minutes after putting his name in Google. I got hung up on one thing. "He's younger than me."

"So?"

"You think he knows?" Look, it's one thing to look younger than your age, but that doesn't change the fact that you are indeed that age, and with that age comes certain things like hot flashes and mood swings that may or may not land your ass in jail.

"He's a cop who liked you at first sight, he knows, trust me." Maeve is probably just saying that because she thinks getting laid is the answer to everything.

We went back to reading about his life or what was known of it because there didn't seem to be much more than his football stats, the fact that he left at the top of his game and was now a cop. There were no red flags, even though some of the articles went back to his high school days.

He was never arrested, never married, though he'd been engaged once almost ten years ago. There was no mention of why they broke up or who called it off and nothing much about her. The pictures they did have of the two of them together did give me acid reflux.

"She's gorgeous."

"That just means he has a type." You see, that's why Sheila is my sister-friend. Only she could say something like that with no inflection whatsoever and make it have so much meaning.

We spent the next hour or so trying to find as much information, and for the first time I realized just how invasive Google is. By the end of that hour, we knew his net worth, his date of birth, and all past addresses; it was uncanny.

The three of us were no match for the crash and burn that comes after a day like we'd had, but the last thought I had before falling asleep wedged between my two best friends was that I hadn't given my ex one thought throughout this whole day.

* * *

They both wokeup before me, not sure why and were already busy in my kitchen. I crawled out of bed, ignored my bedhead, brushed my teeth, and then headed down for my caffeine fuel. I hit the fridge first and was bent over grabbing a bottle of water when the door opened behind me.

"Mom, you slut." I slammed the door shut in surprise at my daughter's playful greeting. I looked at the two usual suspects, who just shrugged while my daughter walked over to kiss them both on the cheek before stealing my water and parking her backside on a stool at the kitchen island.

"What have you three been up to?" She had that look that said, I know something you don't.

"Spill it, kid, before I mess up your hair."

"No, Aunt Maeve, stop it, don't you dare." She laughed and covered her head with her hands. That's something between those two that's been going on for years. Savanah is all about her hair.

"Speaking of which, Mom, your hair looks amazing. What did you do? Who did you go to?"

"Oh no, you don't back the hell up; what do you know?" Sheila went after her next. My daughter turned on her phone, and the three of them looked at something on the screen.

"Oh my, that looks like…If I wasn't there, I'd swear…" Sheila was lost for words.

"What is it? Lemme see." Savanah turned her phone around, and I saw myself wrapped in Damon's arms the night before with his face bent close, and it looked like he was nibbling on my neck.

Even though it didn't happen that way, I still got that shiver down my spine. "That's not what it looks like and how do you know that was me?"

She swiped left, and damn if some jackass didn't take a full frontal shot of me. It was a shot of me walking back to the table with Damon behind me, holding my hand, and looking at my ass.

The heading said, and I quote, ‘Who's this hot new number who has caught the eye of our boy Damon Kincaid?'

I looked at the three of them at a loss and wondered what the hell I'd got myself into.