Page 9 of Ethan

"I'll check my schedule." Like I had anything better to do on a Saturday afternoon. Six months of frustration with myself for not taking a chance and I'd finally jumped in and spent time with the man. And it had gone better than expected. And all I could muster was I'll check my schedule?

I was an idiot.

After an awkward goodbye, I returned to my car, clutched the steering wheel, and rested my forehead on it, swearing. I ran through our entire conversation. Maybe I was delusional to read any kind of romantic interest into Ethan's words and actions. He was a young man. Gorgeous. Intelligent and talented. Maybe he had been humouring me all along, starting from the first day he sat down at my table and began chatting with me. Extending kindness to the old guy.

I started my car and drove around the block before heading home. I was a fool to think someone like Ethan would be the least bit interested in me.

Even if he was, I was fifty-four. My family would never approve.

And that decided it.

I wouldn't be going back.

My decision was solidified when I returned to my home in Fernwood and pulled into the narrow driveway behind my daughter's car parked down the side of my heritage house.

It wasn't unusual for her to stop by and let herself in. She and her son, Damian, lived in a small apartment. I had a backyard where her son could run around. She would choose my house over a public playground when she promised Damian they could have barbequed hotdogs.

I walked through the house and out into the backyard. I'd built a playset in the back corner of my yard that offered two swings, a slide, and a climbing structure.

Sarah was sitting in a lounger as Damian tore around.

She looked over her shoulder at me. "Hey, Dad. I promised Damian hotdogs."

I smiled at her. "I have some potato salad in the fridge to go with them." I checked my phone. It was almost 4 pm. Sarah liked to feed Damian early. "I'll start the grill."

Sarah lifted herself out of the chair. "Can I get you a drink? I brought some beer."

"I'd love one."

While Sarah was inside, I kept an eye on Damian and started the barbeque to heat. As well as two beers, handing me one, Sarah made additional trips and brought out the hotdogs, buns, condiments, potato salad, plates, napkins, and cutlery and set everything on the patio table.

It was a pleasant enough evening to eat outside.

I set the hotdogs on the grill and heated them and the buns through. Condiments slopped on the questionable food, and my grandson rounded up, we settled in around the table.

"So, what did you end up doing today?" Sarah asked.

"Went to a coffee shop out in Cook Street Village." There was no harm in telling her the truth. People went to coffee shops every day without ulterior motives.

"Plenty of coffee shops in this part of town. Why Cook Street?"

Again—no harm. "I know the owner."

Sarah waggled her eyebrows. "A woman?"

"No. Not a woman." Not by a long shot. Ethan was all man.

"Nice change from the bowling team guys?"

"It was good to see him."

Sarah nodded her head and moved on. "How's work?"

I grunted. "Same tedium. I can't wait to retire."

"Only one more year."

"I'm counting the days."

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