Page 45 of Sassy & Sixty

“Good memories?”

“Well, they haven’t all been good – no – the guy had an affair, for God’s sake, but hearing that he’s single again has made me question myself. I want to be very sure I’m doing the right thing.”

“I think we all feel a bit odd when we’re confronted by our exes.”

“Yes,” said Rosie.

“If my ex lived anywhere near me I’d find it extremely difficult.”

“Where does your ex live?”

“Wales,” said Matt. “Not far from Cardiff.”

“I’d still like us to go out for dinner tonight. If you want to?”

“Yes,” said Rosie. “I’d like that very much.”

Mike pacedthe length of his living room, phone pressed to his ear. "I'm telling you, Jack, it was like something out of a sitcom. There I was, watching her walk across the bar then she suddenly disappears. No sign of her anywhere. I went over to talk to Matt and found him sitting on the floor next to her. The two of them chatting away. She obviously told him all about her husband turning up in the bar when she was on a date. What she didn’t realise was that Matt was the date’s son!”

Jack's laughter crackled through the phone. "Sounds like you're in for quite the ride with this one, mate. But the real question is - is she worth it?"

Mike paused his pacing, a smile softening his features. "She is. God help me, but she really is. Rosie's... she's like a breath of fresh air. She makes me see the world differently, makes me want to embrace life the way she does."

"But?" Jack prompted, knowing his friend well enough to hear the unspoken concern.

"But I can't help wondering if I'm setting myself up for heartbreak," Mike admitted. "Her ex-husband is clearly still in the picture, and they have so much history..."

"Mike," Jack's voice turned serious, "in all the years I've known you, I've never heard you talk about a woman the way you talk about Rosie. Don't let fear hold you back. If she's worth it - and it sounds like she is - then she's worth the risk."

Mike took a deep breath, feeling some of the tension leave his shoulders. "You're right. Of course you're right. Thanks, Jack. I needed to hear that."

As he hung up, Mike felt a renewed sense of determination. Yes, the situation with Rosie was complicated. Yes, there was a risk of getting hurt. But as he thought about her laugh, her zest for life, the way she made him feel... he knew Jack was right. Rosie was worth any risk.

"DECISIONS, DECISIONS"

Rosie stood in her kitchen, staring blankly at the kettle as if it might suddenly spring to life and offer sage advice. The events of the previous night at the pub swirled in her mind like a particularly chaotic tea leaves reading.

"Get a grip, Rosie," she muttered to herself, finally flicking on the kettle. "You're a grown woman, not a teenager trying to decide who to take to prom."

They’d had a lovely date the night before. After inauspicious beginnings, they had gone to the pretty Lebanese restaurant in Hampton Court, very near to where her daughter Mary lives. The food, the wine and company had all been great, and even though she had been incredibly embarrassed when Matt had told his father that Rosie’s ex was in the bar, it had been great to discuss everything openly. In some ways, the whole thing had brought Mike and her closer together.

As if summoned by the promise of tea and drama, the doorbell rang. Rosie opened it to find Emma on her doorstep. She’d texted them last night to update her on the whole bar situation.

"Morning, sunshine!" Emma chirped, breezing past Rosie into the house. "I brought reinforcements." She held up a bagthat clinked suspiciously. "Mimosa ingredients. It's five o'clock somewhere, right?"

Rosie raised an eyebrow. "It's 9 AM, Emma."

"Exactly. Prime mimosa time. Now, where do you keep your champagne flutes?"

Before Rosie could protest that she didn't, in fact, own champagne flutes (wine glasses from the local supermarket were more her speed), the doorbell rang again. This time, it was Lisa, Catherine, and Julie, each bearing their own contributions to what was apparently going to be an impromptu brunch.

"We thought you might want to talk about your hot date last night," Lisa explained, hefting a bag of groceries. "And possibly an intervention if Emma's already broken into the alcohol."

As they filed into the kitchen, Rosie felt a wave of affection for these women who had just turned her quiet morning of contemplation into some sort of geriatric hen party.

Soon, the kitchen was a hive of activity. Lisa had taken charge of cooking, wielding a spatula with the authority of a five-star chef. Julie was arranging flowers in what she claimed was a "symbolic representation of Rosie's emotional journey," but looked suspiciously like she'd just grabbed whatever was still alive in Rosie's neglected garden. Catherine was nervously rearranging the cutlery, occasionally shooting worried glances at Rosie as if expecting her to burst into tears at any moment.

And Emma, true to form, was mixing mimosas with the flair of a bartender and the heavy-handedness of... well, Emma.

---