Page 102 of Grown-Up Second Chance

I half expected him to reach for my hand, but he didn’t. He’d gotten my message earlier.

Just friends.

“Beer, water?” he asked. “I’ve got club soda.”

“Sounds wonderful. I need to take the edge off these G and Ts.”

He was quickly back with two chilled cans and a brown bag. We settled on opposite sides of the picnic table.

“I wanted to give this to you,” he said, handing me the bag.

I peeked inside, then pulled out a print I recognized.

“You admired that when we had dinner at the Faithful Lodge,” he said.

“I remember.”

“Keep it to remember Yellowstone.”

“I will. Thank you, Joe. This is sweet.” I looked over at him, unsure what to do next. I was so damn bad at relationships.

“You asked me what I wanted,” he said.

“Yes.” I tried to think of the best way to begin. “You told me earlier that you want something long term, but I’m not sure what that means, or what you expect of me … or anyone else.”

“I had a good marriage,” he said. “I hate the fact that you didn’t, but it can’t take away from what I had.”

“Of course not.”

“I think that makes me a little more predisposed to want a second chance.” He sipped from his can. “I know I never forgot you, but I never dreamed you’d walk back into my life.” He grinned. “And definitely not in a West Yellowstone RV Park.”

“Hard to believe. Coincidences happen.”

“Good coincidences happen,” he said. “Getting to know you—a little—over these last few weeks has been amazing. You’re exactly how I’d imagined you’d be when you grew up.”

“A little too round and opinionated?”

“You were always opinionated—although I don’t think you can hold a candle to Kathleen. As for the other, I wish there wasn’t so much emphasis on women’s bodies. It’s amazing you all stay sane with the pressure media, parents, and the health industry puts on how many ounces you weigh. Put it out of your head.”

“I don’t think Bug likes me,” I said. If Joe wasn’t buying the ‘I’m too old’ excuse for not getting together, I needed to find a new one.

Joe shrugged. “Bug doesn’t like change of any kind. And he’s a little protective of me. He … well … he saw how the … how Patti’s … how her cancer exhausted me. He’ll come around.”

I’d never heard Joe stammer like that. I gave him a sharp look, but he was staring toward the river. Suddenly, I had a very strong feeling he wasn’t being totally honest with me.

He sighed, then turned back to me. He sat forward, his elbows on the picnic table. “What I want is a chance to get to know you even better, and for you to see me in my natural habitat.” Another grin. “I want to kiss you, and yes, eventually make love with you, but not until we’re sure about what we want from each other. And, when the time is right, if we both agree it’s what we want, I’d like a lifetime commitment.”

I was doing okay up until the last sentence. When he said that, it felt like an iron cage wrapped around my chest and squeezed. I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to commit to anyone again. I wasn’t sure I would be able to trust anyone that much.

And if we got close, and it didn’t work out? One of us would be devastated. I didn’t want that for me, and I certainly didn’t want it for him.

“I’m sorry, Joe,” I said, putting the can down on the picnic table. “I’m not looking for a permanent relationship right now. I just got my freedom back. I need time to find out who I am.”

He nodded and leaned back. “Understandable. Well, if you ever decide to give it a try, you know where I am.”

“Oh, you’ll be taken by then.” I put a leg over the picnic bench and twisted to get out.

“I don’t think so,” he said, getting up as well. “I’m not willing to settle for second best.”

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