Chasing Rainbows A Novel - By Long, Kathleen Page 0,52

trying to survive, or achieve, or overcome. No one was immune to loss or heartache or aspirations or struggle.

That was how it worked, this thing called life.

The only way to avoid life was to avoid living.

And while I couldn’t speak for everyone, I felt fairly confident speaking for me and for mom.

She’d say every moment with my dad had been worth the pain she felt right now. Worth the lonely days and nights she’d endured since he died.

She’d say she wouldn’t have changed a thing.

I let that realization sink in for a moment and then I thought about my life, knowing there wasn’t a thing I would have changed either.

Not a moment with Ryan or Emma or Dad.

Sure, I would have taken a few more moments with Emma, but the time we did have together shaped me. Every second touched me, changed me, altered the course of my life forever.

No. I shook my head.

I wouldn’t change the past.

Not even if I could.

o0o

At seven o’clock sharp on Friday night, I sat at my assigned table in the Sunset Room of the Atlantic Grille.

Turns out Diane had worried even more about my outfit than I had. She’d delivered a carefully-chosen ensemble, covering every wardrobe item and accessory from top to bottom.

The classic herringbone pencil skirt stopped at my knees, showing off the full glory of the boots. The sweater she’d found hung long, yet nipped in enough to give the illusion of a waist, which I sure as hell didn’t possess at this stage of my life.

The earrings were a bit much--dangling sterling silver hearts that weighed about five pounds each. I thought about leaving them behind, but I’d never put a thing past Diane in thirty-five years.

She’d pressed them into my palm, assured me they looked fabulous with my newly shorn hair, then she’d shoved me out the door.

So here we sat, me and every other Dating Now wannabe, cooling our heels, waiting for the experience to begin.

I seized the opportunity to size up the room and quickly realized the world of speed dating attracted all types.

I shouldn’t have been surprised, but for some reason, I’d expected a room full of beautiful people. Instead, I sat in the middle of a room full of normal people.

Some average. Some not so average. Some plain. Some gorgeous. Some short. Some tall. And some--based on the years showing in their faces--who were looking to make their final love connection.

The Dating Now staffer reviewed the procedures with us before she announced the start of the first date. We had five minutes to acquaint ourselves with the person sitting across the table from us. At five minutes, the staffer slapped her palm down on one of those bells you rang at the deli counter when you began to wonder if anyone actually worked in the store.

At the sound of the ding, the men shifted one table to their left and each new date repeated the process.

Ding. Shift. Repeat.

Ding. Shift. Repeat.

I was fine with this entire concept, knowing I’d be out of there in an hour and a half max, when I saw him.

Of all people.

I watched as he made his way around the room, moving from table to table in five-minute increments. His hair was cut shorter than I remembered, and his glasses were nowhere to be seen. Contact lenses, no doubt. No. Check that. Corrective surgery.

Only the best for him.

My palms grew clammy as he neared. I managed not much more in my conversations than to repeat my name and job--or lack thereof--like a soldier rattling off her rank and serial number. I made eye contact with no one.

The only person I focused on was him. He moved closer and closer, smiling and chatting to each potential victim as if he were the most charming man on the face of the earth.

I thought about jumping to my feet and telling each woman he encountered to run for her life. I might have done it, too, had his gaze not captured mine as he made the turn, headed straight in my direction, one table away.

His mouth pulled into a tight smile--more of a smirk actually. I swallowed down the ball of disgust and angst in my throat and braced myself. The poor guy currently seated across from me showed genuine concern.

“Are you all right? You look a bit flushed.”

Flushed? I was flushed all right.

Flushed at the thought of facing the man I thought I’d never see again after I’d told him to shut up, once and