A laugh spluttered past her tightly clamped lips.
“Tell you what—I won’t even catch the bouquet.”
Tension unhooked its claws. Giggling, she flopped back onto the pillows. “Okay. Sure. I’d love to come. And I could help you with the arch.” She flexed her biceps. “I’m no carpenter, but I’ve conquered many an Ikea bookshelf.”
“Gorgeous and good with an Allen wrench? You are a goddess.” He smooched her forehead and bounced up from the bed. “Now where’d my shirt go?”
“Bathroom.”
“Right.” He flashed a sexy smirk. “How could I forget?” He kissed her hand with so much ardor she very nearly pulled him back into bed. “I never will forget, bella.”
His damn phone pinged. “But now, I must go. Call you when I’m done? Maybe if you’re not too sore…” He backed from the room, waggling his eyebrows.
“Maybe,” she called.
A moment later, the front door closed with a soft click.
Grinning and giddy, she burrowed beneath the covers. “Holy shit. I’m having a fling. I’m a freakin’ cougar. The book club would be so proud.”
She reached toward the nightstand for her phone but paused, hand in the air. To tell, or not to tell? Their approval would be a welcome balm to her bruised ego. Besides, they were her best friends.
Then again, they’d want to dissect her feelings, and right now, her emotions were a buzzing, sparking tangle. Hell, the whole thing might fizzle out in a few days. Sure, he said he’d call, but perhaps that was the only polite thing to say to a woman whose bones you’ve just bounced. If they made it to the weekend, she’d tell her friends—after the wedding.
It had been so damn long since she’d had any secrets. Maybe it was selfish, but it was thrilling to have something all her own unconnected to her kids, her job, even her friends.
The phone pinged. On the screen, a photo of a roller-coaster with an insanely steep plunge. Noah wrote,
Dad totally puked!
Another photo, her kids grinning between two smirking teen boys. Behind them, Jason looked pale, and Sharla, the girlfriend du jour, looked peeved.
She chuckled. Trouble in paradise?
Funny—in a way, she’d just ridden a roller-coaster of her own.
After a short nap, she rolled out of bed, showered, made a mug of tea, grabbed a paperback, and settled on the deck. The golden sunlight cast long shadows by the time she finished her tea. When she went inside for a refill, she checked her phone. Another photo from Olivia: Noah holding a paper boat of fries. Behind him, Sharla’s boys stuck out their tongues and flipped the bird at the camera. Charming.
She composed a message to Jason reminding him to pay attention to the company his kids were keeping, then drew a deep breath and deleted it. Jerk though he may be, he was also a high school principal and knew how to deal with unruly teens.
Her phone lit up with a new photo that sent her pulse into a happy little mambo: Matteo’s gorgeous smile above a ridiculously large sundae.
Not as sweet as you, bella
She had at least an hour to kill before he closed up shop. Should she walk into town? She glanced over at the fireplace, where her new guitar leaned in its case. What the hell—she had this beautiful place all to herself, with no one to pass judgment on her very rusty playing.
She clipped her nails short on her left hand before carrying the guitar out to the deck, where she lit the gas firepit and settled cross-legged on the chaise lounge. At first, her fingers felt clumsy, but soon muscle memory kicked in, and she strummed the old familiar chords to “Brown-Eyed Girl.” Jason used to serenade her with that song, one of the most romantic things he ever did, even though he was mostly tone deaf.
Now it was up to her to sing her own love songs. She kept her voice low at first. Passers-by heading for the beach with their hoodies, folding chairs, and coolers paid her no mind. Caught up in the joy of playing, she sang louder.
Someone joined in. Her head snapped up.
Arms around each other’s shoulders, four young women on the corner added their “Sha la la” to the chorus. When the song ended, they clapped and whistled.
Flushed but grinning, she waved. “Thanks. I’ll be here all week.”
“Put out a tip jar next time,” one called as they moved off toward the beach.
She raked a hand through her hair and grinned.
