I hated to admit it, but she was right. I’d been coming down here every year for the last ten years, and I couldn’t remember the last time I took notice of a beautiful sunset. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t happy with Ben, did it? “I don’t think we usually stay out on the beach that late, Mom.”
She smiled. “We allow ourselves to see what we’re looking for.”
My brows drew down. “How many glasses of wine did you have while I was in the shower? You sound a little Maya Angelou-ish to be my mother.”
We both laughed. Finishing off my wine, I caught the time on the wall clock—it was almost eight. “We should order some dinner. I haven’t fed Brendan since lunch. He must be starving.”
“There’s a new little Greek place down the block. How about that?”
“Sure. That sounds perfect. Do you have a menu?”
Mom dug it out from her packed menu drawer and handed it to me. “I’m going to take a shower. Add four chicken kabobs and some hummus and chips to whatever you and Brendan want.”
“Four chicken kabobs? You must be starving, Mom.”
She smiled. “Did I forget to tell you that we’re having company in a little while?”
“Company? Who?”
“My new neighbor, Jonathan. He’s a few years older than you and widowed. He’s also extremely handsome. I’ve told him all about you, and he can’t wait to meet you.”
Oh, goodness. I could see where this was going.
“You’re trying to set me up with him?”
“I didn’t say that. I just thought it would be nice to introduce you two.”
“Great.”
A half-hour later, Jonathan Leopold joined us for dinner in the screened-in Florida room. We enjoyed the Mediterranean food while a warm, evening breeze blew in. You could see Jonathan’s house from my mother’s; it was just a stone’s throw away. It made me happy to know that he looked out for her often.
He seemed like a great guy. We’d all gotten a good laugh when he ran around trying to help Brendan catch a small lizard that was hopping around the room.
Jonathan was a real estate agent who’d lost his wife to cystic fibrosis five years ago. They’d never had kids. He was smart, charismatic, and darkly handsome—everything you could want in a man, really. The only problem was that Simon was infiltrating all of my thoughts. So, I wasn’t giving Jonathan the attention he probably deserved.
Dinner was pleasant but ended on the early side.
Deciding to give it another go, I accepted Jonathan’s invitation to lunch the following day. He ended up taking Brendan and me to his favorite restaurant by the beach, and we spent the afternoon frolicking by the water. Still…I felt nothing. My mind was too focused on Simon to really enjoy Jonathan’s company. I pretty much ruled out anything happening between us after that. Not that it could have really worked out anyway, with my being in Rhode Island and Jonathan living down in Florida. But I suppose a fling couldn’t have hurt me, under different circumstances. I just couldn’t get myself to want that with him. Even though I knew focusing on Simon at this point was not helping me, I couldn’t stop my feelings. Sadly, even masturbating to thoughts of Simon seemed more appealing than actual sex with Jonathan.
That night, while putting Brendan to bed, I decided to check his phone. What eight-year-old has a phone? One whose mother was trying to compensate for his lack of a father during Christmastime. My son assured me he would only make calls in an emergency. He used it to play with his apps and watch YouTube. He didn’t have any social media accounts, of course, but he’d often take pictures and text them to me or Ben’s mother. Brendan always used voice to text so that his messages didn’t contain typos.
As of late, he’d been texting Simon—a lot.
In fact, he’d apparently sent Simon a photo diary of our entire day.
Shit.
There were picture texts of Jonathan and me walking on the beach, taken from behind. He caught another snapshot of me laughing at something that Jonathan was saying.
Shit!Simon: Hey, buddy. Interesting pictures. Who’s that guy?Brendan: That’s grandma’s neighbor, Jonathan. He took us out to lunch. He looks at Mom like Miss Santoro looks at you. Yuck!Simon: Wow, well keep an eye out on your mother for me, okay?Brendan: Okay!Shit. Shit. Shit.
Why did I even care if Simon saw these? But, I did. I knew enough to know from the brevity and tone of his response that Simon was upset. Don’t tell me how I knew that from a simple sentence, but I did. I could only imagine what that would have felt like if Brendan had sent me the same photo of Simon and some woman.
We had two more days left here in Florida. It didn’t feel like I could wait that long to explain this to Simon. I felt like we needed to talk about more than just Jonathan. I didn’t even know what I would say. I just needed to see him, needed to clarify things once and for all and also make a decision about our living arrangement.