Page 40 of The Plus One Professional

“Oh, because you are always working on the weekends, right? I mean, I guess that would be when you’d be the busiest.”

That wasn’t the reason, but I didn’t correct her. Instead, I turned on the radio. “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You” by Frankie Valli came through the speakers.

Bailey clapped her hands together. “Oh, I love this song!”

I reached down and turned it up. “Do you like oldies?”

“I love them! It’s pretty much all I listen to.”

“Me, too.”

“Really?!” Again, she seemed surprised.

“Yeah.”

“Can I ask you something? Something personal?” She turned toward me.

“Only if it goes both ways.”

“Goes both ways?” she repeated.

“You can ask me something personal if I can ask you something personal.”

“Oh, okay, yeah, sure,” she agreed, and I waited.

When she didn’t say anything, I prompted, “What did you want to ask me?”

She brushed the strand of hair back, which I’d noticed always fell in her face, as she took a breath. “Sorry, right, um, okay, how old are you?”

I grinned as I glanced over at her. I was sure that she must have changed her question so that I didn’t ask her something too personal. But when I looked at her, she seemed to be genuinely curious.

“That’syour personal question?”

She nodded, and I could see in her eyes that she truly did want to know.

“I’m twenty-four.”

“Twenty-four,” she repeated under her breath.

I’d always been told I was mature for my age. Even before I became a legal adult and had to step up to help Sara and the kids, I’d had to grow up and handle things no eight-year-old, or six-year-old, or four-year-old should. Things like finding my parents unresponsive with needles hanging from their arms and having to go bang on neighbors’ doors in the middle of the night to get help. Things like never knowing where my next meal was coming from and picking through the garbage in the cafeteria to get sandwiches and bags of chips that weren’t finished. Things like learning how to wash my clothes in the sink so they would be clean for school.

I glanced at Bailey, and I couldn’t tell what was going on behind her gorgeous eyes. Her expression was unreadable. “Is that a problem?” I asked.

“No. No, not a problem at all.” She shook her head. “I just feel like, I don’t know, a cougar.”

“You’re not a cougar,” I stated definitively. She couldn’t be more than thirty, and even if she was, that didn’t make her a cougar.

“I’m thirty-six. I was twelve when you were born. I think that qualifies.”

“So, itisa problem.”

“No, I mean, this isn’t…if this was…but it’s not, so, no, it’s not a problem.”

I knew what she was trying and failing to say. If she were serious about me, if this were an actual date instead of what it was, then it would be a problem. I respected the fact that she felt that way, but I disagreed. Heartily.

Which I would say, if there were actually a chance we could be together. Since there wasn’t, I didn’t see the point. I figured I might as well cash in on my personal question.

“So, this wedding. You said it’s your ex’s, right?”

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