Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 94106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
I leaned in and kissed her cheek, taking the card from her hand. “Thanks, Jenna. Take care of yourself.”
Chapter 29
* * *
Valentina
“So…any interesting men at work?” Eve poured wine into her glass, but I held my hand over mine, stopping her from refilling.
“You asked me that a week ago when we went to lunch.”
“I know. But you were sulking still. I was hoping you’d notice some once you started smiling again. And why don’t you want more wine?”
I shrugged. “The smile is still fake. I’m getting good at it. And I don’t want more wine because I just feel worse after I have too much to drink.”
Tonight was movie night. Eve and I hadn’t had our regular monthly get-together in a while. First I’d been in Montauk all summer, and then when I was finally back home, I’d had a ton going on the first few weeks of work. Between open school night, preparing lesson plans, and settling back at home, the only thing I seemed to find time to do was pout.
It had been my turn to pick the movie, so I’d rented some sappy, sad drama about a dog dying.
“My mother used to have a saying. Pain makes us strong. Tears make us brave. A broken heart makes us wise. But wine makes us forget all that crap.”
I’d attempted to shake off the heavy feeling of melancholy, but I just couldn’t get past it, no matter how hard I tried.
“When Ryan and I split up, I felt lost. I wasn’t sure how to be just me when we’d been a couple for so long. But thinking back, I never really longed for Ryan as a man. I longed for the comfort of who we were. It was almost like quitting smoking—you know it’s not good for you…but yet when you stop, you feel like you’re missing a big part of your life. It’s just hard to get over the habit. It’s different with Ford. I miss him…not a routine or coupledom. I miss sitting around talking at 2 a.m. I miss the way he looked at me—like I was something special, the way he cupped my cheeks before he kissed me. The way he made me laugh. When we were together, everything just felt super easy and natural, and he made me feel…I don’t know…safe. Even though I’d been cheated on and hurt, I felt like I could trust him. You know?”
The hopeful spark in Eve’s eyes fizzled out. “You’re really in love with him.”
I nodded. “I don’t even know when it happened. One minute I was minding my own business and getting by each day, and the next I couldn’t wait to wake up in the morning. I thought it was safe to have a good time with him because I never expected it to be more than just that. You know? I just didn’t expect it to be him.”
“I get it. I really do. I didn’t expect the love of my life to be a man in his fifties who wears a Mister Rogers sweater and goes to bed at nine o’clock. But that’s how it happens—with the most unexpected person, at the most unexpected time. When we looked forward, we couldn’t see anything. But all of a sudden we look back and shake our heads—how did we miss seeing this is what would happen when we looked at him the first time, because suddenly it’s as clear as day.”
I sighed. “I need to move on.”
“Are you sure that’s what you need, Val? Maybe you should talk to him. Maybe there’s a reason you can’t move on. Sometimes you need to follow your gut and fight for what feels right. He might be feeling the same way.”
“No. It was only supposed to be a summer fling. I’m being silly.”
“You’re not being silly. You should have time to grieve the loss of someone you care so much about. Just don’t let it be two years, like after the divorce. Okay?”
I nodded. “Anyway, to get back to your original question, there is a nice-looking guy at work. He’s in my department. Italian is his first language, so he has a sexy accent.”
Eve sipped her wine. “Go on. Tell me more.”
I shrugged. “He’s been a teacher for fifteen years, but just started this year because he moved to New Jersey from Connecticut. He’s a widower at only forty.”
“Wow. How did his wife die?”
“I’m not sure. He hasn’t said. He just mentioned that his wife died three years ago, and he moved back to New York to be closer to some family. He has a teenage daughter.”
“How’s his ass?”
I chuckled. “I didn’t notice.”
“What’s he look like?”
“I don’t know. Italian—dark skin, dark eyes, dark hair. He’s nice looking.”
“Nice looking. So is my dad. He’s not hot?”
“What can I tell you? It’s hard to compare to the last man I saw naked.”