a lump of emotion sticks in my throat. “Thank you, Marion. I couldn’t go without your blessing. And for what it’s worth, I miss all of those things about Travis, too. Can you … can you keep this between us for now? It’s just, it’s new and I don’t want the community of Fawn Hill knowing it’s favorite widow’s dating life.”
“Of course, who am I going to tell? He would have wanted you to move on, for what it’s worth. Find love. Just … maybe with a little less lipstick.”
Now I have to chuckle. Always the conservative, my mother-in-law. But at least, with her okay, and a little swipe of a tissue across my mouth, I feel a little better about going out with a man for the first time since my husband died.
26
Forrest
Now I know why I haven’t been on a date in …
Well, have I ever actually taken a woman on a date?
I don’t think I ever have, considering my longest relationship was a two-week hookup marathon that ended with the girl throwing a drink in my face at a bar when I was flirting with someone else.
So, why in the hell did I ask Penelope out? God, I’m such a moron. This is a woman who’s been married before, someone proposed to her … she has children. She knows what proper romance should look like. Meanwhile, the best I can do is buy some grocery store flowers and show up at her house like some lame romantic comedy hero.
I pull at the collar of my button-down, cursing myself once more that I actually picked this out of my closet. Fuck, I look like a chump.
And this is where the anxiety creeps in. I’ve always had it, lurking underneath my skin, but using arrogance and the enormous intelligence I was gifted at birth, it’s been easy to put up the facade that I’m never rattled.
But, deep down, I’m just as spineless and scared as everybody else around here.
What if I spill something on her? What if I get food stuck in my teeth? What if my card gets declined?
And those are only the surface level things I’m worrying about. The first date snafus that were more about vanity than actual connection.
The real problem is that she’s already slept with me, so we know that there is chemistry in the bedroom. But what if we sit down across from each other, alone at a dinner table, and have absolutely nothing in common?
I’ve known Penelope for most of our lives, but what if she decides, after one date, that there really isn’t all that much that attracted her to me?
The thought is nauseating, and now I curse myself for not having more dating experience. If I’d done this before, with another woman I didn’t like half as much, maybe I wouldn’t be jumping out of my skin with anxiety.
As I walk to her front door, my heart threatens to bust free, sweat trickles down my spine, and fuck me, my eye starts twitching. I’m a mess by the time I make it up the front walk, and the date hasn’t even begun yet.
I knock with a shaky fist, my store-bought daisies trembling in the other.
After a minute or two, Penelope’s cherry-red front door swings open, and there she stands.
Powder blue sundress that sets off the color of her clover-green eyes. Smooth, caramel-tan skin contrasted by the cornsilk color of her loose waves. A timid smile, her fingers twisting back and forth in one another, the delicate pink polish making even her hands look beautiful.
Penelope is a canvas of brilliant color, always has been. She lives as brightly as a rainbow after a dark storm, and it takes my breath away.
It’s funny how your world axis can tilt to reveal a completely new vantage point. I’ve been so bitter and isolated for years, thinking that my family and the girl I’ve been interested in didn’t understand me at all. The reason I’d proposed being Penelope’s friend with benefits was to stick it to her … to show her how much she’d missed by not picking me.
But over time, my resentment melted away. It’s as if a curtain of gloom has lifted from my personality, and in its place left a film tinged rose-colored. On one hand, it made me feel like a wimp, like some guy who’d fallen to his knees once he realized he could be loved. On the other hand, I was just glad I hadn’t completely spoiled my