My phone rings immediately.
“Hewhat?”she asks the instant I answer.
“I told you,” I say in a low voice, not wanting to be one of those obnoxiously loud people in waiting rooms even though half the people in here are talking on their phones anyway.
“Like, as friends?”she asks.
I feel my eyes roll.“No.As a date.Why is it so hard for you to believe that a guy would want to date me?”
“Because he’s not just any guy.Besides, I have a hard time understanding whyanyonewould want to date any mom.We’re not exactly an exhilarating crowd.”
“Speak for yourself.I felt plenty exhilarated last night.”
“Wait—what?Did you have sex with him?”
“No!Exhilarated by the music.The company.The kiss.”I smile, my head lolling back on my shoulders a bit as I feel a warmth wrap me up like a cozy blanket at the memory.It really was a great night.
“I can’t believe it.I’m insanely jealous over here,” she blurts.
“You’re happily married.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t be jealous.So how did it end?Are you going out again?You’ve got nearly two whole weeks without Nicholas.You better take advantage.”
I open my mouth to tell her about everything—the invitation inside, the ensuing panic attack, the unnecessary oil change.
But I just can’t bear to.“Well, there’s no way he’ll call you after that lame-ass excuse,”she would probably reply, tamping down any flicker of hope that I can somehow rectify this situation.
So I simply say, “I don’t know.I’ll let you know if—”
My phone interrupts, chiming loudly against my ear.I pull it away from my cheek and glance down, seeing a text notification pop up.“Oh my God.He texted me,” I say, sucking in a breath.Thoroughly rattled, I’m not sure if I’m saying it to Charlisa or myself.
“What?Already?I can’t even get my husband to open his eyes before ten on a Sunday.But this guy—”
“Hold on a sec,” I tell her quickly, then pull the phone from my ear to see what he said as hope bubbles up inside me.
He texted me?
Before I even texted him?
Maybe the oil change excuse worked.Maybe he’s one of those men who appreciates a woman who is fastidious about car maintenance.
I mean, the guydoesdrive a vintage Camaro.Maybe he—
My brow pinches as I see that he simply sent me a laughing emoji.
Huh?
Then I see it.My text.My text that I had started to delete until Char interrupted.
My text that I didn’t mean to send.
But I sent it.Oh my God.I must have hit the send button instead of thebackbutton.
I look at what I wrote.“I’m so sorry I bolted on you last night.I had such a wonderful time.In truth, I hadn’t shaved”
Oh no, no, no.
“Ava!What’d he write?”I hear Char’s voice on the phone.