Page 40 of Midlife Woes (Ex)

“Fine, then let me go back inside, and you won’t have to worry about it.”

“Jolene, sweetheart.” He kissed my temple. What game was he playing now?

“What is it?”

“I think I’m head over heels in love with you.”

Not now, cooch, this is not your part of the show. She was throbbing and doing handsprings or some shit while I was trying to get my heart under control.

I didn’t think I’d ever hear those words again in this life, and even if he didn’t mean it or things changed, it was still good to hear and to feel that sweet feeling once again after so many years.

I wrapped my arms around him and rested my head on his chest, where his heart was thumping away beneath my ear. It made me feel safe, listening to his heart like that. The mouth could lie, but that heartbeat was a whole other story.

JOLENE

Ithought he was taking us to his club, but instead, he took me to some fancy steak house where I was sure they were going to turn us away because we were both underdressed, but instead, they were giving us preferential treatment as soon as we walked in.

“Do you know the owner or something?” I whispered after the hostess walked back to her post.

“You could say that.”

“Well?” He’s so annoying.

“It’s my parents’ place.”

“Your parents own this place? Don’t they have these all over the country?”

“Yeah!” He’s probably some trust fund baby. No wonder he’s so bossy.

“What are you thinking now?”

“What makes you think I’m thinking anything?”

“Because you scowl when your brain is going into overdrive.”

How could he know these things when we’ve just met and Kev… Oh, hell no, I’m not doing this again. I might find myself bent over in a field somewhere so Fred Flintstone can prove he’s the man.

“Are you on any medication for your ailment, or can you have wine?”

“What ailment?” He had the nerve to move his menu and look at me.

“That thing that makes you nuts.” I looked left and right but realized we’d been seated pretty much away from everyone else.

“You do know that women have gotten off for murder during this particular ailment, right.”

“Not this time. For one, I’m a cop, and for another, I’m a national treasure. Not to mention, my father would probably put a hit out on you, so you’d be better off in jail.”

I played with my hair and gave myself some time to come up with a comeback, but nothing came to mind, which I hated. Why does it feel like I can’t win an argument with him? “You know, when I was in kindergarten, you weren’t even born yet.”

“It’s not the age, it’s the mileage.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Figure it out.” I was fuming so that when the waitress came, I ordered wine and ignored him. He didn’t drink because he had to drive, and by the time my medium well steak that looked like half the cow was on my plate was served, I was feeling better.

He kept feeding me from his plate like I asked him, but somehow it tasted better. No one has ever gotten me to eat asparagus before, something I told him when he ordered it for himself and threatened me not to eat off of his plate. So why was he feeding me from said plate, and why was I eating the nastiness without complaint?

He kept cutting my steak and feeding it to me, which would usually annoy the hell outta me, but for some reason, I accepted. I guess that’s his love language or something, because I remembered that when we ate the tiger prawns at his place he’d fed me from his fingers as well.

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