Maybe Later(62)

She grimaces slightly. “Ramen wasn’t very happy about it, was she?”

“I don’t think cats enjoy evening walks like dogs do,” I explain to her as I sit right beside her and take a bite of my own creation.

Unintentionally, I moan.

“It’s fantastic, isn’t it?” she asks.

She takes another mouthful of rice and beef. “If you are in the mood to cook, just come over. I’ll be your taste tester.”

A slight smile tugs on the corner of her lips. “Some days I prefer to be at home with you. Please, don’t get me wrong. I enjoy our dates and love that you put so much thought into them but having you all to myself is the best.”

She has no idea how much this means to me. I spent years believing that I was fucked-up and that it wasn’t worth it to look into having another relationship. She makes me believe I’m not a lost cause. The shadow of a man I became after my divorce is gone. I can trust people again. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed like I do when I’m with Emmeline. The best laugh I’ve had in weeks happened earlier today while we tried to walk her cats.

“Do you always walk around the neighborhood singing and dancing like you did earlier?” I ask.

“You’re just mocking me because you don’t know that song. Everyone knows it but you.”

“That’s an ancient song, isn’t it?” I rise and go to the fridge for a beer. “Want one, babe?”

“Nah, I’m drinking water today,” she smiles and continues eating.

“Where did you learn it?” I ask her.

“I used it for one of my gymnastic recitals. I was about nine. Mom almost killed me,” she laughs. “Perfect Emmeline danced to I’m Too Sexy in front of her friends, who she brought to show her amazing form and skill.”

“Do you have a sister?” I can’t remember if she mentioned that as Amy or Emmeline, I’m seriously losing track of everything that’s been said on the chat verses in-person.

She twists her mouth, closes her eyes briefly, takes some deep breaths and speaks slowly. “I think it’s too early to talk about my sister.”

“Hey, take your time. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here when you’re ready to talk about her or anything else,” I say. I’m trying not to sound desperate but hoping we can rush things a little.

“We should talk about you, put you in the hot seat.” She gives me a lopsided smile, but I don’t like where this is going. “What’s your last name?

“Are we finally exchanging last names?” I ask stalling and even faking excitement. “For a second, you had me worried. What if you were trying to kidnap me or … use me as your sex slave. But I’m not sure we are as ready as you think. Are you ready to know my last name?”

She glares at me and rolls her eyes. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

“Yes and no,” I respond, kissing her on the nose.

“What does that mean?”

“Well, just the other day I was talking to Jason,” I explain. “Remember him?”

“Yes, your brother. He’s back in town?”

I nod. “Yes, he got a job.”

Technically, it’s not a lie. He’s working for me full time.

“That’s great, right, having family close by?”

“Either that or we’ll end up killing each other. Hopefully, the strongest will survive.” I hit my chest a couple of times Tarzan style. “That would be me.”

“You’re so funny. What does Jason have to do with my last name?”

“Well, I was telling him how blinded by your beauty I was. I mean not just your beauty, but your brilliance too. How I enjoyed talking to you for hours, but I never asked you for your last name. How crazy is that?”

“Exactly,” she answers animated. “You understand how I feel. It’s not about sharing a last name or status, but about the emotions and experiences. I must tell you, your brother isn’t the only one who’s concerned about this last name exchange. My best friend chided me the other day for the exact same thing, right after she begged me to help her husband find a job. It was between ‘please help my husband find a job, and I am dating a guy, I think.’”

“Your friend needs a job?” I ask, finding the subject that’s going to bail me out of this fucking mess.

She sighs. “I’ve been trying to get him interviews everywhere. It’s so hard to find him a match. There’s nothing available in Boston that fits his qualifications and salary requirements.”

“Would he consider relocating?”

She exhales loudly and rests her forehead on the table.

“The companies that want to hire him won’t pay for relocation and want a three month trial before they give him a permanent position. What if it’s a bust?”

“I take it he can’t afford relocating?” I assume.

“They can't, but I’ve offered to pay for it. For now, the only help they’ve accepted is a few part-time jobs as assistants. They can only live off of that for so long. And of course, they can’t relocate, they just had a baby and with all of the expenses a newborn and a new house brings…”

“What does he do?” I fake ignorance.