4. Brooke

FOUR

brOOKE

W ith utensils in hand, I fell back down into my seat, and Jude removed the plastic cover from the cake I'd special-ordered last month. As soon as he told me that birthday story, I'd been waiting for his big day to roll around, and it was totally worth it. Jude's smiles came easy, but he didn't let his hair down very often. Metaphorically, of course, since his lion's mane locks were currently down and waving around his shoulders. He could've passed for a Viking with the beard and barrel chest. Only thing missing was some blue paint.

With the platter between us, resting half on his knees and half on mine, we dug into the marble cake with buttercream frosting. Jude had a major sweet tooth and would settle for nothing less than the sweetest of icings.

"So, you first," I said, pointing at him with my fork.

He shoveled a giant piece of chocolate into his mouth, mumbling around it, and I shook my head with a roll of my eyes. Although, really, I'd seen worse. We both had.

That was what I loved about Jude. I had no reason to impress him. We let it all hang out with each other. I teased him about his "dad bod," while his frequent joke for when something unlucky happened to me was, "What a kick in the ovaries, huh? Oh, wait. You don't have any!" He'd sometimes disappear from my presence for twenty minutes with a short, "Gotta drop the kids off at the pool," and I'd definitely let out a squeaker in front of him on multiple occasions. Nothing would surprise either one of us anymore.

He swallowed his bite of cake and licked a dollop of icing from the corner of his mouth. "You know how my family's been," he started because, yes, I did know. He'd told me about how Amelia had been asking for a mommy more and more lately, and how his mom and mother-in-law occasionally dropped hints about how he needed to get out. And to his credit, he had tried. Like, five times. But still, he had tried. He inhaled a breath that made his shoulders rise and fall. "I guess… I don't know. I guess I feel like I owe it to them to start dating."

I squinted at him. "You don't owe it to yourself?"

He scooped up a glob of icing, wagging his head side to side, though he stayed silent for a minute. So, I did too. Jude was a talker, often empathetic and perceptive, but sometimes he needed a few moments to form his thoughts.

"I hung out with the boys today," he said eventually. The boys being his best friends, whom I'd met in passing a few times.

"What'd they have to say about it?"

"They were all for it. Said I had to be happy for the kids to be happy."

I licked the tines of my fork. "Good point."

"But I am happy," he said, and I eyed him. "Mostly."

"What might make you more than mostly happy?"

He didn't answer, and I suspected it was because what would make him more than mostly happy was having Mira back.

"What's making you consider dating again?" I asked, and he forked another piece of cake into his mouth, his gaze off in the distance somewhere.

"Sex," he finally answered, and I choked on crumbs that went down the wrong pipe, earning a few chuckles as he smacked my back.

"I didn't expect that," I muttered, opening a bottle of water.

"What? You think I'm some kind of asexual worm being?"

"More like Ken." I jutted my chin to his crotch. "Nothing but smooth plastic down there."

"Least I have working parts," he mumbled around another piece of cake.

I punched his arm, laughing. "My vagina still works. Just…not very well."

Sex since my cancer treatment had not been often or very good. It was basically dry as a desert down there, and the few times I'd attempted it, it had not gone well. He shouldered me, letting me know he was kidding, of course, and I playfully knocked my fork against his, batting him away from Beckham's face. I helped myself to his forehead.

"So, what?" I started, speaking with my mouth full. "You want to date to have sex?"

"Essentially." He shrugged. "I don't want to get married. I know I won't be finding my soul mate, but the guys talking about me being happy made me think…"

"Sex will make you happy?"

"Couldn't hurt."

The math made sense. Jude was a tactile guy, always hugging and high-fiving, patting shoulders and rubbing backs. I'd imagine he missed having that physical intimacy with someone.

He waved his fork in my direction. "Your turn."

"Not too complicated. I want to be married. I want kids." Even if those kids didn't come from my belly, I still wanted a family. "I want the white picket fence, but I can't get that if I stay holed up alone with Dorothy."

"Holed up with Dorothy? Why do you say it like that? Dorothy's great."

Dorothy was not great. She was moody and violent, especially toward men. Not Jude, though. Because everyone loved Jude. Even my grumpy cat.

I'd adopted her during my cancer treatment, before Tom had left me, and I assumed that was why she distrusted men. She was as scarred from that relationship as I was. Maybe she was onto something with her hatred of people with the XY chromosomes.

"If I don't put myself out there, I'll never find the one," I said.

Jude thought about that for a moment. "And you think you'll find the one ?"

I settled back against my chair, swinging my feet up onto the stones of the fire pit. "I hope so." Then I brushed loose strands of hair behind my ears. "And you think you'll be happy with sex?"

"I'm not sure." He popped the lid over the cake we didn't finish and sipped on his root beer. "It's scary to think about going out on a date, but I wouldn't be able to pick someone out of a lineup to get naked with, you know?"

"Yeah. I get that."

"But I'm also not interested in a relationship either. I don't want my kids knowing what I'm doing."

I slanted my head back. "Why not?"

He stroked his palm over his beard a few times. "First of all, it feels like I'm cheating on Mira, which—" he held up his hand before I could interrupt "—I know, is not true, but that's how I feel. She's the only woman I've ever been with or loved, and it's impossible to ignore that. I know I'll never find someone like her again, but also… I'm lonely. "

He met my eyes, and my heart broke for him. For his family. For everything that they'd all lost.

He went on. "It might be nice to meet someone to…have fun with again. Nothing serious. I wouldn't want to get Amelia's hopes up, and I know Sebastian would lose it if I ever brought anyone home."

I started to speak again, but he stopped me with a shake of his head. "I know. I know. I went over all of this with the guys, and I've been thinking a lot today, and…" He lifted his arms, fisting and unfisting his hands, shoving them in my direction. "You think my right forearm is getting bigger than my left?"

I didn't understand the question at first, but when it clicked, I burst out in laughter. He chuckled quietly next to me, folding his arms over his stomach.

"That your workout anymore? Your dick and your right hand?"

"Pretty much," he said, still smiling.

After seconds of quiet, I mused, "It's been over a decade since I dated."

"Almost twenty years for me," he said with a dramatic and slow blink, as if he couldn't believe it himself. "I don't even know where to start."

"Tell me about it." I squinted at him in thought. "What if we do it together?"

"Do what together?"

"Dating." The idea became clearer, and I gestured between us. "What if we help each other? We don't have to go through it alone."

"What? You want to, like, tag team?"

"Yeah, I guess. Soldiers in arms on the battlefield of dating."

He snorted a laugh.

"We could give each other advice or whatever," I said, excited now. "I'll help you get laid, and you'll help me find a husband."

He considered me for a long time, eventually giving in with a nod. "Not the worst idea I've ever heard."

I slugged him in the shoulder, and he chuckled before holding out his hand. "A dating guide."

Shaking his hand, I corrected, "A dating pact."

He agreed, repeating, "Dating pact."

We went quiet for a while, the sky a rainbow of color in the setting sun, and I turned to admire Jude's profile. His high cheekbones above his light-brown beard, his straight nose, and golden hair highlighted by the dying light. He looked like a painting, and without thinking, I opened the camera app on my phone to snap a photo.

"What are you doing?"

I flipped my phone screen so he could view the picture. "For your dating profile."

"Dating profile?"

"We're doing the online dating thing, right?"

He jerked his head back. "Why?"

"How else are we going to do this? The old-fashioned way? Meet someone organically at a bar or grocery store?"

He frowned. "You're right. Online dating it is."

"Get your phone out," I told him. "We can set up our profiles, make sure we look good."

He pulled his out, tapping on it a few times. "Which one are we doing?"

I Googled Best dating apps and scooted my chair right up against his, so we could discuss our game plan while we finished off the last of the cake. After a few minutes of research, we decided on the first one listed, mostly because I didn't have the patience to read past the second suggestion of the article, and Jude went back to eating the cake.

Priorities.

With the sun sinking below the horizon, I started up the fire pit, and between bites of David Beckham's face and sips of now-warm soda, Jude and I created our dating profiles.

He ordered me to use one of the photos from the shower as my profile picture, and I instructed him to leave voice notes for his answers because he had the right amount of gravel in his voice, especially when he got all drowsy from smoking.

"Husky in voice and body," he joked, and I cracked up, ordering him to make that his tagline.

"Nobody wants a fat guy," he said, and I rolled my eyes.

"How do you know? I like your dad bod."

He patted his stomach. "There was a time I used to be able to eat an entire pizza and still have a six-pack."

"You had a six-pack?"

"In high school. I wasn't too coordinated for sports, but I joined the track-and-field team."

"Really? I can't imagine it."

"Mira was a runner, and I never wanted to miss her in those tiny shorts." He squeezed his thumb and fingers together, raising his hand in the air, like his once-upon-a-time body was something to celebrate. "I was a specimen."

Pre-cancer, I'd been heavily concerned about my appearance, but now, I knew we were all simply floating through life in meat sacks. The important thing was if our meat sacks could keep us going long enough to get wrinkly and dried out. Like expensive salami.

Leaning my head on Jude's shoulder, I yawned. "You're still a specimen. I don't even mind that you're XY."

I felt his hot breath waft over me, his mouth against the top of my head, his beard tangling with my hair. "Thanks. I guess."

"You know what I could eat?" I asked, and I felt more than heard his curious hum. "Some meats and cheeses. Maybe some jam. "

"If I wasn't in the candy business, I'd want to be in the meat and cheese business. Open a store and call it?—"

"Oh my gouda!" I guessed.

He laughed and said, "Oh my cheeses!"

I pushed off him breathlessly. "Brie brighter."

"Havarti smarty."

"Speakcheesey." I couldn't stop giggling.

He couldn't either. "Pecker's Romano."

"What?" I couldn't breathe, laughing so hard. "That…that doesn't make sense."

"Pecker like pecorino," he explained while pointing to his junk.

I bent over to gulp in air until Jude patted my back. I eventually sat up and tucked my hair behind my ears, glancing over to him. He had his eyes closed and legs extended, his head resting against the back of the chair, his smile happy and content.

Which made my heart happy and content.