Page 61 of Forgotten Romance

“Uh-uh,” Luke jumps in. “I’m losing you.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. If I see you slip, I’ll remind you again. I’ve got you.”

“Thanks.”

The waiter comes to take our orders, and the more we talk, the easier it gets, and the faster time gets away from us. Luke is right that he’s a pretty open guy, and he knows exactly the right thing to ask or say in order to bring my personality out. Instead of leaving the date thinking I’m an empty shell of a man, my dusty brain is clicking over, and I’m remembering who I used to be.

Somewhere along the line, I lost that.

Now, I’m excited to find that person again.

With Davey, without him, that part is all still a mystery.

All I know is that I enjoyed myself with Luke, and while this isn’t heading anywhere romantically, I like him enough that I need the night to think about it.

We pull up in front of my neighbor’s house again, Luke creeping the car along so that we don’t wake anyone up. It’s almost midnight; we’d been talking so much, and I’m glad I got up the nerve to go.

“Whether you want to do that again or not,” he says, putting the car in park, “I had fun.”

“Me too.”

“I hope you think some more. You’re a cool person, and I know it sucks to feel lost and whatever, but you’re not, really. Just … hiding.” He grins, and I like that way of thinking about it.

“I’m glad we’re friends.”

His smile hitches, like he knows without me having to say much at all. “I’m pretty sure I said our date would end with a kiss good night.”

The words settle between us. I’m weirdly nervous, and I’m not sure if it’s because I want him to kiss me or I don’t. The thing is, I didn’t want to do any of this tonight, but I’m so glad I did. I’m walking away with a full brain and a lot of questions I wouldn’t have if Luke didn’t push me.

Do I want to kiss him? Not overly. But this is all part of it, isn’t it?

Am I ready to move on?

Can I do it?

I like Luke as much as anybody, so kissing him will help me work out whether I’m wasting my time here. Can I really be open to someone who isn’t Davey?

I fill my lungs and lean toward him.

Luke meets me halfway, our lips touching over the center console of his Ford something-or-other. I’m expecting more nerves. Butterflies, whatever. Instead, all I get is disappointment.

We both pull back at the same time, and he gives me a sad smile.

“We can’t say we didn’t try,” he says. “I really, really hope you can work things out with Davey.”

“Thank you.”

Then I climb out of the car, for the first time in my life thinking clearer than I ever have. I can be open to someone who isn’t Davey. I just don’t want to.

I’m done expecting Davey to solve our problems for us.

It’s my turn to fix things.

19

Davey

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