Page 9 of Summer Romance

He opens the passenger door for me and I get in. His car is immaculate, and I’m immediately grateful that we aren’t taking my car. I keep a lint roller in the glove compartment because of the dog hair.

He gets in the driver’s seat and turns to me. “Ready?”

This feels like such a loaded question. Am I ready? I look at his hands on the steering wheel and his forearms where he’s rolled up his sleeves. In the confines of this car, I can smell him—like pine and a candle burning in an old church.

“I am ready,” I lie. He makes a left and heads down Magnolia Drive, out of Beechwood, toward Baxter. I smooth my dress over my knees and fold my hands. I am trying to think of something to say but my mind is blank. I can’t even remember my job interview question.

We stop at a traffic light and he turns to me. “First date, huh?”

“Yes.” I would give anything not to be this nervous. My heart is beating too fast and I have no way of controlling that without taking deep breaths, which, of course, would make me seem like I’m hyperventilating. Which I’m pretty sure is a dating no-no.

“I’m honored. When was your last first date?”

“I was twenty-four.” I want him to keep asking me questions that I know the answers to.

“How’d that one go?” He looks over at me and his eyes catch mine in a way that’s more than a glance. It’s disarming, the way he looks right in my eyes.

“Fine,” I say. But then I picture Pete in his biking shorts and make a face.

“What’s that face for?” he laughs, and it relaxes me a little. It’s the second time I’ve heard his laugh. It sounds like it comes from someplace deeper than his chest.

“We biked over the Brooklyn Bridge. That was the date. He was in these biking shorts and, I don’t know, I don’t really think they’re a good look for everyone.”

“They do make you think of an overstuffed sausage.”

“Exactly,” I say. And I turn to watch him watch the road. He has a slight bump on his nose that makes his whole face look strong.

He turns to me and the quick eye contact invites me in. “So then what? Besides the sausage pants, how was the date? I want to know what pitfalls to avoid.”

“Well, so far you’re batting a thousand with the appropriately loose clothing.”

“Skateboarders don’t wear a lot of Lycra,” he says. “So then what? You rode across the bridge?”

“Yeah,” I say. “It was exciting and exhausting. But also kind of weird. Like a first date where I’m following him around, sweating. No eye contact.” This is actually a perfect metaphor for our marriage, I don’t say.

“That is weird. Let’s have so much eye contact tonight.”

“So much,” I say, and this makes me laugh.

When we getto Baxter, he turns into the marina. “Did you bring a hat?” he asks.

“I did. Are we going on a boat?” I ask.

“We’re going to a baseball game, by way of boat.” He’s smiling at me, waiting for a response, and all I can do is smile back. Part of me just wants to stay in this car with him where I can smell him and watch his hands grip the steering wheel, but the rest of me is excited to jump into the night. “We’re nailing the whole eye contact thing,” he says finally. I laugh again, and it wipes out the rest of my nerves.

We walk through the marina, and Ethan stops at a two-seater powerboat with a lounge seat at the back. “It’s not mine,” he says. “My friend loaned it to me because the traffic can be horrible getting to Connecticut.” He says it like traveling by boat is the most normal possible way to combat traffic.

I take off my sandals and hop in just as he’s extending a hand to help me. Full of regret over that missed opportunity to touch his hand, I settle into the passenger seat. He’s all business starting the engine and untying the ropes from the dock. I’m a bit unsettled not knowing where I’m going, but also excited. I haven’t been on an outing that I didn’t plan since my mother got sick.

“Wait, what baseball is in Connecticut?”

He backs away from the dock. “Minor league. Rookie league really. The Southport Rockets. A guy I know is pitching.” He puts the engine in neutral and turns to me. “Is this okay? I thought a surprise would be fun, but I probably should have asked you.” There’s a crease in his brow that I haven’t seen before. It’s the first time I’ve seen him unsure.

I’m crossing state lines with a total stranger because I’m hoping to remove a few firsts from my recovery checklist.He makes a good point. But the air is summer warm, and the sun is as low as the stakes. Rookie-league baseball. A one-off date with a cute guy.

“No, this is great,” I say and put on Greer’s hat.

The ride up the coast to Southport is about thirty minutes. The engine is loud so we don’t talk. I like the way the mist of sea spray is landing on my arms, how the wind in my face makes me feel free. I steal glances at him while he drives, and he catches me.

---