Page 91 of Suddenly Dating
“You’re not complicating my decision,” he argued. “I don’t want to go backward, Lola. I would like to see where we go,” he said, gesturing between them. “But I want to know what you want.”
“I want friends with benefits,” she said. “That’s all I ever wanted.”
He didn’t believe her. He could see it in her eyes even now—she was lying, and he didn’t understand why. “Why are you saying that? Why can’t you admit to your feelings?” he asked softly.
“Why can’t you?” she returned. “You can’t tell me that a part of you doesn’t want to be back with Melissa, in New York, with your friends and the life you built there.”
Harry was momentarily stymied by the tiny kernel of truth in that. It wasn’t that he wanted Melissa—he didn’t. What he wanted was the life. He wanted the picture Lola had just painted. “We could have that life, too, you know.”
Lola laughed. “Are you serious? You don’t know me, Harry. You think you do, but you don’t.”
But wasn’t that the point of being with someone? To know them?
Lola misunderstood his hesitation. “You’ll thank me for it someday. Oh, I almost forgot,” she said as the ducky twirled in circles. “Mallory is hosting a barbecue so you can meet Albert Cantrell.”
Harry smiled a little lopsidedly. “Thanks, but I think we already tried that.”
“No, this is for real. It’s part of the deal I made with her. I told her I would help her with the candy shop, but she had to make that meeting between you and her dad happen.”
There was something all wrong with this little chat they were having. Lola was being too understanding, too giving. “You did that for me?”
“I owed you. But don’t thank me yet,” she said lightly. “It’s possible that he won’t like you at all, you know. You don’t have the same effect on men as you do on women, I’ve noticed. You’re too good-looking for guys, I suspect.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Definitely. You’ve got thatMen’s Healththing going. You look like a cover model trying to pretend he’s a big bad bridge guy instead of a gym rat. Oh, and Birta is coming. She’s been asking about you all week. I thought I should toss her a bone and invite her, too, while I was at it. You’re welcome.”
“Thanks,”Harry said, and splashed her. “I appreciate the barbecue, more than you know,” he said. It could possibly be his last-ditch effort to make this company work. “Points off for Birta and the entourage, however.”
She giggled. “It was the least I could do. You helped me so many times, and I am returning the favor. And in spite of Birta’s social skills, she did give me some great feedback on my book.”
“That’s great, Lola,” Harry said sincerely. He hoped she went far with her wild book.
“Who would have thought that we both might get what we came for in this little town?” Lola asked.
Harry sort of nodded, but he wasn’t thinking of bridges. He was thinking of life, and the choices one had to make from time to time. Of the people who swam in and out of his world. Of how things that once seemed so certain were suddenly uncertain, and how relationships formed and then unformed. The why and how of it, what it all meant in the long run. How decisions he made now would determine the course of his life. And how heavy it had felt these last few days. For the first time in his life, he was feeling the weight of real dilemmas.
“What?” Lola asked.
“Nothing. Thank you for arranging it, Lola. It might be my last gasp.”
“You can thank me by cleaning the kitchen. I made beef bourguignon.”
Harry began to glide through the water toward her. “I saw that disaster area when I came in. I don’t think I have the right boots or gloves to go in.”
Lola’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Big baby. What’s a few pots and pans?” She kicked hard, showering him with water and at the same time sending her giant rubber duck sailing backward, out of his reach.
Harry wanted nothing worse than to haul her off that duck and kiss the brass right out of her. But Lola had already dumped herself off the ducky and was walking up the steps of the pool, water pouring over every ridiculously sexy curve. She looked back at him. It was a brief look, hardly more than a few seconds, but it seemed to Harry that the light in her eyes had changed. She wasn’t as okay about any of this as she’d said. If she couldn’t or wouldn’t admit it, what was he supposed to do? Pin her down and force her to say it?
Lola grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her body. “Are you coming?”
“Yes,” he said. “Be right there.”
He turned his back to her and looked at the lake and the golden glitter of the sun on its surface as it sank behind the hills. He was at a loss to what to do with her.
Twenty-three
Birta was in fine form the next morning. She was tense, snapping at Lola at every turn. Her tea was too hot. Her papers were not straight. And as Lola worked to format a blog post Birta had been asked to write about the creative process, Birta was hanging over her shoulder, reaching for the mouse. “No, no, that’s not how you do it,” she said, and made a few clicks, undoing the work Lola had just done.
