Page 73 of Every Beautiful Mile

At this, my face feels so hot it’s as if it was blasted by a blow torch.

“Fine. I’ll go,” I choke out. “But please stop saying things like that.”

“No promises,” he says as he puts his hand on the small of my back to guide me into the restaurant. A move so subtle it shouldn’t make me feel like I’ve been lit on fire.

Yet here I am, burning alive.

***

“Mom? Hey, can you hear me?” I’m whispering, pacing, and officially freaking out.

“Hi, honey! It’s great to hear your voice! I’m painting. Let me just clean my brushes off so we can talk.” I hear the familiar tapping sound against her brush cup. “Why are we whispering?” she whispers.

“Sorry, I’m in the bathroom. In Maine. I’m in the bathroom in Maine.” I let out a shaky breath and reset. “Sorry, I’m hiding. I need to ask you a question, and I need you to give me a brutally honest answer.”

“From the bathroom? I’m intrigued.” I can hear the smile in her voice.

I ignore her.

“I met a guy here last night, a restaurant owner. The one I’ve been emailing. We kind of talked and had a great time, even though he might be some kind of womanizer, and then we ran into him and his kids today on a river, and Marin opened her big fat mouth, and now I’m supposed to go on a date with this man.”

Silence.

“So, I’m wondering what you think about that. I’m dressed in the bathroom with actual makeup and adult clothing on, but I feel. I don’t know. Guilty? Like I’m betraying Travis, or something. I need you to tell me what to do.”

Anxiety lives in every part of my body as I pace.

“Penelope.” Her voice is soft. “You could come back married, and nobody would question your loyalty to Travis. You know that, right? You two were a dream team, but we have all watched you drag around this island with a dark cloud over your head, missing him long enough. It’s what Travis would have wanted, even if it involved another guy in a bathroom in Maine.”

“First of all, he’s not in the bathroom. But thank you. Really. I know I get in my head, and I just—I don’t know how to do this. I’m really incredibly awkward. Did you know that?” I puff out a self-deprecating laugh.

“Of course I know that, but do this. Go out with this guy. Don’t worry about what you should or shouldn’t do. Just have fun, Penelope. Laugh. Flirt. Get naked in a backseat.”

“Mom.” I massage my temple. “I was sixteen, and I wasn’t naked. That cop exaggerated,” I argue.

Her laugh fills my speaker as I cringe over my teenage antics.

“And I’m not taking any advice on getting naked from the woman who is painting dick pics of my father.” I spit the words out like bitter berries.

“Have fun, sweetheart.”

She means it.

I hang up and look in the mirror.

I’m wearing one of the sweaters I bought in Oregon. It’s bright green with a wide neckline that slides off one shoulder, and my wedding band takes center stage around my neck. My pair of fitted black jeans stop just above my black rubber ankle boots—my only shoe option other than flip-flops.

My eyes have a smokey color around them, and my cheeks have the slightest tinge of pink.

I either look ridiculous or amazing.

“Finn, are you sure about this? I can cancel right now, and I won’t be mad or anything. I just...” I stand by the door and reach for any excuse not to go.

“Marin said you’d do this.” He clicks his tongue.

“I did say that!” she calls from the other room.

“Go, Mom. I know you loved Dad. But please. Go. I like him.” He drops onto his bed. “Nobody will be Dad, but there’s also a lot of great people in the world that aren’t.”

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