The sidewalk is suddenly crowded with people waiting in line for something. To my distress, Courtney leads us to the end of the long line.
“This is the gelateria?” I ask.
“Yep. The line-up’s a little better than I thought it would be.”
Is she serious?
“I’m not waiting in line for half an hour for gelato.” The idea makes my skin crawl. I hate line-ups. They’re such a waste of time.
“It’ll be less than half an hour, I promise. They’re quite efficient.”
“They better be,” I mutter.
“Are your arms tired from carrying Joey?”
“Mommy,” says the little boy standing in front of us, “why did that woman say my name? Should I talk to her? But you told me never to talk to strangers.”
Courtney doubles over with laughter, and I can’t help but be glad she’s laughing.
“I’m fine,” I say. “The cactus isn’t heavy.”
“I’m going to scope out the flavors. They rotate. I hope they have lemon cherry sour cream today.” She heads down the line and into the store.
When she disappears from view, I turn my attention to my new cactus and compare his dimensions to my own before realizing how pathetic this is.
Courtney returns. “You’re in luck! They have it. It’s the best thing in the whole world.”
Admittedly, I’m rather curious about the gelato, though it’s a pity I’ll have to wait in line with a bunch of kids before I can get some.
She pulls my phone out of her pocket.
“I’ll give it back to you in a moment,” she says, “after I take a picture of you and Joey.”
“Mommy, who’s taking a picture of me?” Joey the Kid asks.
“The lady’s talking about another person named Joey,” the mom says. “Don’t worry.”
I’m about to open my mouth to explain that Joey is actually a cactus, not a person, then quickly think better of it. I force a smile for Courtney as she holds up my phone and snaps a couple photos.
“Perfect.” She clicks a few things before finally returning my phone. A close-up of Joey is now the background picture, and she’s sent a picture of me and the cactus to Vince.
Vince replies a few minutes later.I love your new girlfriend. I’m sorry I questioned your judgment earlier.
She’s not my girlfriend,I reply, though when I type the words, it gives me a twinge of something I can’t quite put my finger on.
It’s not like I want Courtney to be my girlfriend. Dealing with her all the time would be more than I could handle, plus I don’t think she could handleme, not in my regular CEO life.
Though I still want to go to bed with her. She’s passionate. I bet she’d be great in bed.
Okay, I’ll admit it. Even though Courtney spends a lot of time trying to push my buttons, I’m enjoying myself. I’ve missed the companionship of being in a relationship. I always liked that part, but I decided I was finished with relationships after Olivia said she didn’t like dating someone who was married to his job and wasn’t “emotionally present.”
Some men might consider that to be touchy-feely mumbo jumbo, but I didn’t. I got what she was saying. It was similar to what many women had told me before. As I didn’t see my lifestyle changing, what was the point in trying to have a girlfriend? Any relationship was doomed.
“When was the last time you went out for gelato or ice cream on a hot summer’s day?” Courtney asks.
“Twenty years ago? Maybe more?”
She looks at me like I just kicked a puppy. “But you like it, don’t you?”
