Page 91 of Story of My Life
“Thank God,” she said at a reasonable level when the volume of the music abated.
I glanced up and saw the retired tennis pro returning to his wife, looking victorious. I’d never been so grateful for a noise complaint.
“Hey, what would you wear on a first date?” I asked.
Laura’s face shuttered, and she cast her gaze out toward the lake, where it looked like everyone was having the best day of their lives. “I don’t know. Haven’t been on one in a long time.”
I kicked myself. Obviously she’d been married. I’d seen the pictures. And she was wearing a wedding band. But no one had mentioned her husband. Maybe he was deployed or they were separated? Maybe I should focus more on not putting my foot in my mouth and less on the lives of virtual strangers?
“Why?” she asked, collecting herself and taking a fortifying slurp of frozen drink.
“I, er…well, I’m writing a new book?—”
“It’s about damn time.”
“Yes, thank you, Zoey Junior. Anyway, I’m feeling a little rusty on the romance part. I recently got a, um…divorce.”
“Okaaaay,” she drawled. “Were you part of a religious cult where divorce was punished by dismemberment or something?”
“No. And if you knew my mother, you’d realize how funny that was.”
Laura’s phone signaled an incoming call at her elbow, but she ignored it.
“Just asking because you looked over both shoulders to make sure no one could hear you whisper theDword.”
“I’m a romance novelist. I’m not supposed to get divorced.”
“Yeah, well, sometimes things don’t work out exactly the way we planned.” She gestured at her wheelchair.
I was a big selfish jerk. Here I was still wallowing in my “woe is me, I got divorced” whineathon when much worse things happened to much better people.
“Don’t.” She pointed an accusing finger at me.
“Don’t what?”
Her phone lit up again, and she stabbed the Ignore button with irritation.
“Don’t do the ‘oh, my problems are nothing compared to the poor unfortunate hottie in the wheelchair.’”
“First of all, I don’t sound that mopey, do I?”
Laura’s shrug was moderately softened by a small wry smile.
“Secondly, I wasn’t doing that,” I lied.
She snorted. “Please. Yes, you were. Everybody does it. But guess what? The worst thing that ever happened to you is still the worst thing that ever happened to you. You don’t have to feel guilty that something even worse didn’t happen. That’s really fuckin’ stupid.”
“Were you this wise before the whole wheelchair thing or did it give you magical powers to understand the meaning of the universe?”
Laura grinned. “I think we’re going to be good friends—oh fuck.”
“Oh fuck what?” I demanded.
“Nina.” She said the name like it was synonymous with baby seal murder.
“Who or what is Nina?” I asked, craning my neck to look around the deck.
A Nordic-looking blond in a sexy suit and skyscraper heels flashed us a red-lipped smile. Her skin was flawless, her makeup subtle, classy. There wasn’t a hair out of place in her sleek side-part ponytail. She had a California tan and finishing school posture.
