Page 29 of Flirting with Forever

“How did you reconnect?”

John groaned and pushed heavy fingers to his forehead, like he was kneading away a headache. “Can’t believe I’m telling you my whole sad story.”

“You don’t have to if it’s too private or something.”

“No. It’s not that. It’s just...usually something I ease people into as they get to know me. But yeah, it’s not a secret. We reconnected after I had dug into our family tree when I was eighteen and showed up at his office one day, prepared to bully my way inside.”

“You wanted to prove you were his son?”

“More than anything I wanted to prove that my mother hadn’t cheated on him. I’d convinced myself that I didn’t care that he’d left me. I was just royally pissed that he’d besmirched Estrella’s name like that.”

“So, what happened?”

“I stormed in without an appointment, all the paperwork in my hand, ready to make some big courtroom-style scene.” He smiled, an unexpectedly sweet mixture of wry self-deprecation and bashfulness. “I even practiced my speech. The way I was going to pace back and forth, the exact moment I was going to point my finger at the genealogy paperwork that proved that it was perfectly genetically possible to be his blue-eyed kid. That Estrella hadn’t cheated or lied.”

John laughed, knee-deep in the memory at that point. “Turns out, all that practice was a waste. Because I walked into his office, introduced myself, and he about fell out of his chair. I’ll never forget how big his eyes were. The size of Ritz crackers. Turns out his father had died the week before, and then in I walked, looking and sounding a hell of a lot like the deceased. My father’s campaign website might have had him listed as a Presbyterian like his wife, but he was raised as Catholic as my mother was and that man can hold on to a superstition. Apparently, it was like his father was communicating from beyond the grave. Either way, he stopped ignoring my existence.”

John cleared his throat, obviously embarrassed that he’d just unloaded that much onto Mary. “Anyway. Tell me about the app.”

Mary took a few more steps, still wading through John’s story in her mind. She could think of a million and two questions for John. What was his relationship with his brother like? How often did he see his father? Hell, she wanted to know whether or not John had voted for him in the last mayoral election. But she looked up at the lines in John’s face, surly, tired and...sad? She felt the curiosity leech out of her. For some reason, he’d popped the cork and let her in on this part of himself. And now he was looking a little bit like he regretted it? She couldn’t tell. There was a defeated tilt to his mouth that Mary hated to see. Not wanting to push him too far, Mary allowed him to change the subject.

“The dating app?”

“Yeah.”

“You want to talk about the dating app?”

“Sure. Something light. I didn’t mean to go into my whole history.”

“Right. Okay. Um, here. You can just check it out.” She dug through her purse and handed him her phone once she’d opened the app. “It’s one of those kinds where the guys can’t reach out to me unless I reach out to them first. You cruise them there on that page. And if you want to connect, you can either write them a message in that box there, or you can tap them using these emojis.”

“This app is my personal nightmare.”

“Why? All the hot older-man action?”

He laughed. “No. The idea of a woman reaching out to me with just an emoji and then me having to try to figure out what to do next? I’d never sleep again. I’d just spend all my time trying to guess the difference in meaning between a waving-hand emoji and a cat with hearts for eyes.”

“I’d never send the cat with hearts for eyes! Are you nuts? The man would think I was a psycho. You send that emoji as an icebreaker and you’re practically showing up at his house with a boom box held over your head.”

John laughed. “See? I’d fail. I don’t speak the language of the emoji. I think I’m too literal minded.”

“Most of the guys don’t use the emojis. Most just respond with words.”

“Are these your chats up here?”

“Yes. You can look, but I’m warning you, I haven’t screened them yet today.”

“Screened them?”

“Take a look for yourself, if you’re feeling brave.”

John clicked into her messages. Apparently, Ritz-cracker eyes were hereditary. He nearly choked as he took in the dick pics from four separate guys. There were three other perfectly nice chats as well. Kind, considerate men who hadn’t replied to her “Hi, I’m Mary, how are you?” opening line with a horrifying photo of an erect penis.

“GoodJesus,” John murmured, slamming his eyes closed and pinching her phone between two fingers like it was suddenly contaminated with perv germs. “That’s awful. You have to screen those outevery day?”

“Yup. I just forward them to the customer service concierge and then block the guy.”

“What is wrong with people?”

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