Page 8 of Flirting with Forever

“I hardly notice it anymore,” Estrella replied. “I’ve been here almost thirty years. Your purse will be safe there. Come along.”

Estrella pulled Mary back out onto the street.

“Ooh, punch.” Mary stopped and got herself a glass, which was surprisingly flavored like white grape, even though it was a burnished pink.

“I have the most wonderful man for you to meet,” Estrella said. “His name is Samuel. He’s in computers or something, I never know. And he’s quite handsome.” She pointed across the block toward a shorter man with dark skin who was indeed quite handsome. “I’ve known him since he was in diapers. He’s like a nephew to me. I’ll get him.”

And then Mary was alone, sipping her punch and looking around, watching three teenage girls holding hands in a chain and weaving through the crowd, watching a group of older women reclined in deck chairs in the sun, watching men elbow one another out of the way at the grill, each one reaching for the spatula. She got a funny tingle between her shoulders and knew she was being watched as well. She turned and halfway down the block was John, holding a beer and scowling at her. He ducked his head in hello and she did the same. Her eyes traced down John’s form, and she almost rolled them. Though he’d foregone the tie, he wore a white dress shirt, black trousers and the ever-present wingtips.

What a party animal.

“Mary, this is Samuel. Samuel, Mary.”

Mary turned in time to watch as Estrella two-hand shoved the shy-looking Samuel forward. Mary had to grab his elbow to help brace him.

“I’ll leave you two alone!” Estrella toodled her fingers and was gone.

“Hi,” Mary said with a laugh. “Estrella’s quite...enthusiastic.”

Samuel grinned at her. “That’s one way to describe her.”

He had round, handsome features, a clean shave and a hugely warm smile. Mary liked him instantly. “So. Estrella tells me she’s known you since you were in diapers. Though I’ve always thought that was a strange way of explaining how long you’ve known someone.”

His eyebrows quirked, apparently deciding to leave her last comment alone. “Yeah, I grew up down the block from John and Estrella. In that red town house down there.”

“It seems like everyone knows each other on this block.”

“Oh, yeah. One big family.”

Mary thought she detected just a trace of sarcasm in his tone but couldn’t think of how to ask about it. “Think you’ll play any of the games?” Mary asked, nodding her head over to where little girls were challenging one another in double Dutch, a basketball hoop was set up, and three full-grown men were each attempting to blow the largest soap bubble they possibly could.

“You happen to be standing next to the Lincoln Place hopscotch champ seven years running.” Samuel blew on his fingernails and shined them on his T-shirt.

Mary laughed at the teasing glint in his eyes. “I wasn’t aware I was in the presence of greatness.”

“Sammy,” a distinct voice said from behind her. “Your aunt is looking for you. She said your wife is on the phone.”

Samuel grimaced, glancing quickly at Mary and then away. “Ex, John. Ex-wife.”

“Oh, is it official now?” John asked blandly, taking a sip of the beer he held in his hand as he came to stand next to Mary. He let his cold eyes wander the crowd.

“Mary, I’ll be right back,” Samuel said, taking a few steps backward. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll berightback.”

Mary sighed as she watched him disappear into the crowd. “Is his wife really on the phone?” she asked John, one eyebrow raised.

John shrugged, unrepentant, bored. “You mentioned that you had a problem with married guys shooting their shot with you. I thought I’d help you out.”

Mary was quiet as she stood shoulder to shoulder with John, watching two kids with water guns chase each other down the street, their mothers hollering after them. The line for the buffet table was three people wide and five sidewalk squares long. Loud, tinny music played from speakers jammed against the screen of someone’s open windows. Across the way, Estrella laughed and leaned her head onto the shoulder of a humongous redheaded man.

Mary’s grape punch was down to just pointy shards of melting ice. She stared into the bottom of her glass. She liked going to parties by herself. Of course, she’d never had a problem with that. But she really, really liked going to a party with a date. Maybe it made her old-fashioned, but she liked having someone who cared about whether or not her drink was full.

“So,” John said, reminding her that he still stood on the curb next to her. “You’re, like, really desperate for dates or something?”

“Okay, then,” Mary said crisply, turning on her heel and marching away from John. A white sheet of blank disbelief had fallen over her, snuffing out her party glow. What anass.

“Wait! Mary. Shit. I didn’t mean—That was a terrible thing to—Please wait.” Two heavy fingers tapped roughly at her shoulder. He appeared at her side, palms out, fingers looped around his beer bottle. “I’m an idiot.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a complete sinkhole for happiness? Where good feelings go to die?Desperate?” she quoted him with a scowl. “Being thirty-seven and flirting with a good-looking man at a party does not make me desperate. Wanting to meet someone does not make medesperate. Jeez! You’re like the human manifestation of the sad trombone sound.”

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