David took his phone from his pocket and typed a quick text. What the hell. He hit send. Home day after tomorrow. Dinner Wed? Piccolo’s in Ardmore. Do you know it?
Within a minute, an answer came back. Yes. Talking to a book group at the library in Haverford. Will be done around 9. Can meet you after.
David smiled. “I’ll be there. Get there when you can.”
Just as they were starting to taxi, he got her response. Can’t wait.
The plane was picking up speed and soon they were airborne. David focused on the lightness he felt as they left the ground. Piccolo’s was BYOB, so that meant he had to get a good bottle of wine. He’d probably get two, a red and a white. Crap. What was happening? He was actually planning a date, and doing more than making reservations, or counting on his fame to get him in someplace. Sticking his phone back in his pocket, he acknowledged Kate was different, and she was going to require some effort.
*
Kate dropped her bags when she entered the laundry room and flipped on the lights. There had been a little blast of cold weather while she’d been away and the house was chilly. She took a quick glance at the basket of mail on the counter to her left, checked to see if the plants needed water… and it was then, when she looked around, that Kate felt the loneliness wash over her.
But it wasn’t the usual loneliness, the kind that screamed at her that she’d been left. This was a new feeling, one that left her more resigned than miserable. One that reminded her it was time to move on.
Right next to the laundry room was the kitchen. Kate took another look at her bags, deciding to leave the largest one in the laundry room since most of the clothes had to be washed anyway. She grabbed the carry-on and headed upstairs. When she reached the first landing, she turned and went to Laura’s room. Opening the door, her daughter’s essence reached out. It was the smell of a seventeen-year-old: denim and deodorant, makeup and perfume. Stepping into the room, Kate reached down and turned on the bedside lamp. There, right in front of her, was David. A large poster hung at the head of Laura’s bed. He was in full hockey gear, a helmet covering his dark hair, but the intensity in his eyes held her. The pads and jersey weren’t there for Kate. All she saw was the man beneath. And as the smells of her daughter faded, the musky, warm scent of David flooded Kate’s mind.
It came over her like a wave, and she felt the happiness stir deep within her. All at once, she started reliving last night. She kept replaying the moment he approached her in the bar, worried she would forget the instant when their eyes first made contact. Kate tried to pretend there was nothing between them. But as he stood before her on that sunny deck, being genuinely concerned and perfectly gorgeous, Kate melted. Talking with him was like being with an old friend; making love with him was like finding her other half.
And she was going to see him again.
As a writer, she lived by her ability to make people feel things, but over the years Kate had grown numb. The years with Richard, the fight for her daughter, had forced the life out of her. But one night with David helped Kate realize her heart was still beating.
She reached out and touched the picture and smiled. He’d given her the most remarkable gift… hope. Something she hadn’t had in the longest time.
Forgetting about the fatigue and her carry-on, Kate climbed another set of stairs. At the top was her office, the place where she went to let her imagination take hold and create her stories.
When she touched the switch on the wall, just inside the door, the overhead light came on. The fixture was a beautiful conglomeration of twisted vines she’d found in a decorating catalog, and the final touch to the space she’d been planning since the sale of her first book. Two years ago, when book three was optioned for a movie, Kate took the money and hired a contractor. Richard had been furious, but she didn’t care. The third floor needed work, and she laid claim to one of the old, run-down bedrooms.
The whole floor had been gutted and transformed, but her office was special. With wide-plank wood floors, built-in shelving, and a custom made desk, this was her space. Hers. Looking up at the light shining from the chandelier, Kate stepped into the room.
She hadn’t come up here very much since Richard had climbed the same stairs, told her he had someone else, and left her. She wrote on her laptop instead, avoiding the memories of this place, but that was going to change. Looking at the bag hanging from her shoulder, Kate decided she was done. Done mourning, done feeling sorry for herself. No more escaping. Reclaiming this room was the smallest of gestures, but it was important nonetheless. Her life had become a series of turning points. Some were big, some were small. This was a small one. Stepping toward her desk, Kate put down the bag and turned on her computer.
She felt like writing.
Chapter 3
‡
Piccolo’s Italian Café had been housed for the last fifteen years in a pretty house in historic Ardmore. The owners, Albie LoScala, and his partner and chef, Vinnie Abruzzo, had never bothered to get a liquor license, so patrons who brought their own wine were given a corkscrew and glasses to go along with the best Italian food anywhere in or out of Philly. Kate loved the restaurant, but hadn’t been there in over a year, since well before Richard left. She’d heard from friends that he and Marie went from time to time; she couldn’t imagine it being a very pleasant experience for them since Albie and Vinnie never liked her ex-husband. Ever.
Cars were scattered around the street, but being it was late, the town was quiet. After finding a parking spot a few doors away, Kate thought it was ironic David picked this restaurant. It was possible, over the years, they were here at the same time, having dinner, and never taking notice of each other.
She checked her makeup and reapplied her lipstick, looking carefully at her reflection in the visor mirror. Breathing out, Kate knew she should find a way to drop her age into the conversation, if only to see his reaction. Then she’d know if this was going to go anywhere, or if the whirlwind would stop.
He’d called her yesterday. Just to talk. He asked how school was going and how she was doing… specifically, David wanted to know if she had any regrets about the night they spent together. Hearing from him caught her a little off guard. God, did she want to tell him the truth—any regret she felt lasted a total of twelve seconds. After that it was lost in a wash of hot, sweaty, very satisfying memories. He made her feel so good, so wanted. Kate could never feel sorry for making love with him. She assured him she had no regrets. Hell, no. Kate had to pinch herself so she remembered it wasn’t going to last. This was a rebound. It was fun.
It was dangerous.
The alarm tweeted and she started toward the restaurant. Her heels clicked on the pavement, and when she looked down, Kate wondered if all the cleavage she was showing was too much. The sweater was tight and plunging, and not something she’d usually wear, but the whole evening was taking her out of her comfort zone.
Pausing on the restaurant’s porch for a second, Kate took a deep breath. Then another. The butterflies in her stomach now felt more like bats; she figured she’d better walk in before she lost her nerve. The door squeaked when she pulled it open and Albie looked up. The butterflies, the bats, everything faded when she saw the smile on her old friend’s face.
“I’m back,” she said quietly.
He came from around the maître’d’s podium and pulled her into a hug that crushed the wind out of her. Then he stepped back, looked at her face, and hugged her again. “I am so happy to see you!” he finally said. “We’ve missed you terribly!”
“I’ve missed you, too.”
“Your louse of an ex has been in with the crazy one. I had to stop Vinnie from spitting into their dinners, although the last time I was tempted to let him.”