Page 67 of Grown-Up Second Chance

“I don’t know yet.”

“Ennis is a pretty place.”

“Joe …” I protested.

“I understand about disappointments,” he said. “Believe me, I do. But I also trust in serendipity and second chances. Come back to Montana when you’re done. I’ll show you what’s possible.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said. “That’s all I can promise.”

Chapter Twenty

“Let’s sit on a bench and look at the lake for a bit before we go home,” Joe suggested as we walked down the front steps of the old hotel. He took my hand. “Please? It’s beautiful.”

“Okay.”

We walked across the roadway and down a short path to an empty bench. Without discussion, we sat close together, and I didn’t protest when Joe put his arm around me. It felt natural.

I leaned into him.

We sat quietly and watched the light play across the lake’s ripples. A pair of trumpeter swans descended to the water, their entry a bit ungainly. They swiftly transformed into the regal birds they were, their damp white feathers glistening in the end-of-day rays.

“I believe things occur for a reason,” Joe said. “Call it serendipity, the Universe, or God, something or someone is put in your path to teach you if you allow it.”

“And what do you have to teach me?” I asked.

“Possibilities.”

“What do you mean by that?”

His hand clasped my shoulder. “I’m really sorry your marriage was so unfulfilling,” he said.

“It’s over now. No use dwelling on it,” I said.

“If you’re still using it to guide your future actions, then it isn’t over yet.”

“There’s nothing wrong with using past experiences to guide future decisions,” I replied, shifting away from him.

“That sounds a little too ‘Dr. Phil’ for my taste,” Joe said with a laugh. “I’m not saying it’s wrong, but I think it’s a little simplistic. You told me you don’t want another relationship because you had a bad one, right?”

“And because the odds aren’t good of doing any better. You’ve seen the statistics. You know the divorce rate.”

“So all men are off limits because Larry was a bad apple.”

“Well …” It didn’t sound logical when Joe put it like that. I grinned up at him. “You’re not the same. But I’m not ready to get back into the reality. You know: socks on the floor, cap off the toothpaste, toilet seat up, inability to cook anything beyond toast.”

“Nice try, Di.” Joe wasn’t smiling. “What is it? Really.”

I swallowed.

“I’m scared, Joe. I know who you used to be, but we were kids then. You seem solid now, but people get really good at hiding things as they get older.”

“You mean I might be a big bad serial killer lying in wait for you to commit to me, then I’ll take you off and torture you?”

I shook my head. “Of course not.” I peered up at him from under my thinning lashes. “Are you?”

He roared with laughter.

“Di, I’m exactly what I seem to be. What you see is what you get. My warts are fully on display.” He pushed a stray hair from my forehead. “And what I am is a man who’s been in love with you my entire life.”

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