And girlfriend/boyfriend? Such a juvenile expression for someone who had been married for ten years and wears khakis and boots while her boyfriend wears ripped jeans and athletic shoes.
“Face it,” Anh said later that evening while the boys were watching a rerun of America's Funniest Home Videos, and we ate greasy potato chips with onion dip when I should've been eating carrot sticks with fat-free ranch. “You're dating.”
I moaned. “I knew you were going to take his side.”
“This coming from a walking, talking dictionary. Seriously, Ramona. When two people go out on a social engagement with just each other, then it's a date. Especially when the date ends with kissing and sex.”
I stuffed another chip in my mouth. “Fine. We're dating. But that doesn't mean we have to be exclusive.”
Anh eyed me suspiciously. “You've got other hot young guys beating down your door you haven't told me about?”
“Not me, him. I mean da Vinci should definitely be dating other people.”
Anh made a sour face. “Not in this day and age. All those diseases. Besides, who cares? What difference does it make if you're exclusive?”
I wiped my greasy fingers on my jeans-not mom jeans, but cool ones I'd picked up at Abercrombie the day before, proof I obviously did care. “Well, because I don't want him to become too emotionally attached.”
“Him or you?”
“So what if I don't want to fall for him and get my heart broken when he dumps me for a younger coed? That makes me a normal woman. And I'm not ready for a serious relationship, anyway. I can't have my boys believing da Vinci is my boyfriend. What would they think? That he'll be their next daddy? It's ludicrous. Preposterous. Ridiculously absurd. Besides, I think about Monica Blevins more than I think about da Vinci. How screwed up is that?”
“Has she called you back yet?”
“No, but her flight came in yesterday, according to her assistant, so I'm expecting her to call any day now.”
Anh grabbed the chip bag and rolled it up. “I knew something was eating at you. You inhale Lays and onion dip when you're nervous. But you keep this up, you're going to gain back those pounds you've lost.”
I admired my slimmer frame. My new jeans were a size smaller than anything I had in my closet. A little tight after half a bag of Lays, but they still fit. I'd lost twelve pounds without even trying, or rather, I lost pounds without obsessing over losing them. Much like da Vinci becoming my boyfriend, the weight loss had surprised me. I didn't lose the weight to Get Up and Move It, Texas! like my mother and Rachel assumed. I didn't lose the weight by eating any less, either, or at least I don't think I ate any less with chocolate and ice cream and non-stop carbs from da Vinci's pasta.
Anh claimed it was falling in love that did it, but I don't think it was falling in love with da Vinci, but falling in love with life again. I was more active than I had been in years. As my sister said on a daily basis, “When you move it, you lose it.”
“Speaking of dating, you and Michael still a thing?”
“Not dating,” Anh said, reapplying her lipstick. “Unlike some people I know, we are not going out on social engagements. Just my house and his. Taking care of me and Vi when we were sick did score him a few brownie points, though.”
“I don't know. I think you're closet dating. How many affairs go on that never make it out into the public? Are they not dating?”
“No. That's why it's called ‘having an affair.‘ Two different things. See, if you'd have asked if Michael and I are having a sexual affair, I would've said yes.”
“Thanks for setting the record straight. We'll see how long it takes before you slip up and wind up in public like da Vinci and I did.”
“Not gonna happen. Besides, I'm still holding out for Cortland. He dumped your sister yet?”
“So not gonna happen. If anything, she'll dump him. She brags about how often she gets hit on every day. I just want to shake her and scream, 'I get it! You're hot! But you're still not good enough for Cortland!”
“I may not be the only one with a little crush on Cortland.”
“You mean me? Don't be ridiculous. But he did call me earlier to see if I needed any help dog shopping. I'm going to surprise the boys.”
“Maybe he's a little hot for sister.”
I waved my hand as if to swat away the absurdity of her idea, though I secretly thought she could be on to something. “More like feeling sorry for his girlfriend's widowed sister. But I may take him up on it. I'm terrified of picking out the wrong dog. And he's done all the research on the best dog for kids. He knows a breeder who has pups for sale.”
“I don't know,” Anh said, slinging her purse over her shoulder. “Sounds like a date to me.”
“I don't see you as the yappy dog type,” Cortland said the following day as we sipped coffee at Starbucks. He thought it would be easier to meet up and drive out into the country together, as it was twenty minutes into the middle of nowhere.
“What? You can't see me dressing a little Chihuahua in a cute striped sweater and carrying it around in my purse?”
Cortland's face broke into a smile and I wondered if it was the caffeine that made my heart begin to race or that smile. Now here was a man who knew how to dress sexy for his age. He wore a black mock turtleneck with pressed dark denim jeans and black boots.
“You need a dog like my Leibe. Good dog for growing boys. And a great jogging companion, too. Of course, you already have a jogging companion.”
“I do? Oh, you mean da Vinci? I guess so.”
“You two serious?”
I shook my head. I vaguely remembered how this happens. You start dating someone, people ask you if you're serious, will you get married, do you want more kids? I couldn't believe people assumed that romantic evolution for da Vinci and me. Either I was delusional or I didn't like da Vinci as much as he liked me. “I can't see getting into a serious relationship right now,” I said. “Maybe it's the timing. Or maybe it's just him. I don't know.”
Cortland's smile turned down, though the twinkle in his eye showed the opposite. “Well, that's too bad. You deserve to be happy, Ramona.”
I wrapped my fingers around the hot ceramic mug. “I am happy. Okay, happier, anyway. But I'm not sure I need a man to feel that. The way I see it, it either happens or it doesn't. I've done some research on those pesky love hormones. I'd like your professional opinion, actually.”
“A professional opinion about love? Didn't know there was such a thing, but I'll give it my best shot.”
“Vasopressin.”
“The monogamy drug.”
“So you've heard of it?”
“I happen to believe humans can very much be monogamous.”
“By choice or biology?”
“Everything in life is a choice, whether inspired by biology or not.”
“But you agree love is a chemical attraction? That the endorphins cause us to fall in love and stay in love?”
He crossed his arms in front of him and I found myself staring at his large hands, and longed to reach out and touch them. Anh had to be wrong. I couldn't have feelings for him. It would not only be crazy, but wrong.
“I think chemistry is a huge part of it,” he said, leaning in to the table. “But in the end, our brains have to tell us if it's the right thing or not. Otherwise, who knows who we might end up with?”
He may not have meant it as a put down, but that's how I took it. That he thought my loving da Vinci was a colossally bad idea. “You're right,” I said, holding my head high. “We might end up with someone like a fame-obsessed TV star with fake boobs. For instance.”