Page 114 of Champagne Nights

“That’s wonderful, Paisley. So now you’ll have two columns?”

“Yes. One for love and relationships and the other for strictly sex. I’m not too sure it’s going to work out.”

“You’ll be fine, and you’ll do great,” Charlotte said as she grabbed my hand from across the table.

When we were finished eating, I asked Keaton to drive me to my car.

“Where did you park?”

“The medical center.”

He drove me to my car and looked at his watch. “It’s seven forty-five. That support group starts in fifteen minutes. I think you should go. You’re already here.”

“Goodbye. Keaton.” I smiled as I closed the door and climbed into my car.

He drove off, and I sat there, clutching the steering wheel and looking at the medical building. Maybe if I go one time, I can say I did, and he’ll back the hell off. I grabbed my purse, and with uncertainty, I walked inside.

The sign said the meeting was in room L2. Once I found my way, I nervously sat in the fourth row of chairs. Only eleven men and women were in the room, and all of them had to be over fifty. I felt out of place and uncomfortable and debated whether or not to leave. I stepped into the room and sat down in the chair, so I was there. An older lady walked in and looked at me.

“Are you in the right room, dear? This is for people who have lost their spouses.”

I smiled and nodded my head. “Yes, I’m in the right room.”

She leaned over and placed her hand on mine. “I’m so sorry, dear.” And then she walked away and sat next to another olderlady. “Okay,” I thought. “I’m out of here.” I grabbed my purse. When I went to get up, a younger man sat down in my row, one seat over. He looked at me, and I looked at him. We gave each other a small smile, and the counselor stood at the podium and began to speak. Shit. I couldn’t walk out now.

“Good evening, everyone. I see we have two new people in our group today. My name is Jessica Roth, and I’m here to help you deal with your loss and grief—we’re all here to help. Everybody in this room has something in common. You’ve lost a spouse. This group is here to provide you with a safe forum to share your feelings and pain. Every one of you in this room has had the same experience and has gone through the same emotions. Let’s begin by welcoming our two new survivors to the group.

“The woman in the back row.” She smiled. “Can you please come up and introduce yourself.”

“Who, me?” I pointed at myself.

“It’s okay. We’re all here for you.”

“No, no. It’s fine. I’m just here to observe.”

“Nonsense,” she said as she walked towards me and pulled me from my seat.

I looked over at the hot young guy sitting one chair down from me, and he had a terrified look on his face. I stood up at the podium and clutched the sides tightly.

“Why don’t you tell us your name and how long you’ve been widowed,” Jessica said.

I gulped as I gave a small wave. “Hi. My name is Paisley Logan, and it’s been almost a year since my husband passed,” I said with a tear in my eye.

Keep it together. Keep it together. Keep it together.

“How long were you married? You look awfully young,” an older woman asked.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I’m going to kill Keaton and his bright ideas.

“My husband passed away on our one-year wedding anniversary. He died of a massive heart attack while we were out jogging together.”

There. They wanted to know, so I just let it out.

I heard gasps. “Welcome, Paisley,” Jessica said with sympathy as she put her arm around me.

“Welcome, Paisley.” Everyone in the room followed.

I walked back to my seat. The hot guy sitting one chair down from me wouldn’t stop staring. He was young. I would say maybe a year or two older than me. Jessica called him up, and he tried to say no. I looked over at him.

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