Page 35 of Merry Little Midlife Matchmaker

“Tell me about it. The office wouldn’t run without her at the helm. Even the days she works from home, it feels like things are just on the edge of falling apart.”

“How long have you worked with her?”

Laurel tilted her head. “Oh…four, five years? No, longer. She got divorced, what, six years ago? So it’d be six and a half. She started right before that all happened.” She gave me a significant look.

“Was it bad?”

“Not as bad as it can be, I guess. But divorce is never easy.”

A frown pulled at my brows. I’d never spoken to Lizzie about her divorce, and I found myself wanting to know what had happened between her and her ex.

“What about you?”

I blinked and brought my attention back to Laurel. “Oh, I’ve known Lizzie since we were kids. Her older brother, Aaron, was my best friend growing up. Best man at my wedding. We’ve kept in touch. Lizzie was always hanging around when we were little, but we lost touch as we got older. I knew she was married, and I remembered Aaron telling me she and her ex had separated, but it wasn’t until I moved back here that we really reconnected. She hasn’t changed at all, you know? Same smile, same laugh. She’s great. So good with her kids—and with mine.” I huffed a laugh and realized I was babbling, so I stopped and reached for my wine.

Laurel gave me a strange look, and when she smiled, it was softer than before. Like she’d just seen something in me, or understood something, but I had no idea what it was. “Yeah, she is great. I was actually asking about you, though. Lizzie mentioned you have a son. Have you been separated from your ex for a while?”

Ah. I licked my lips to catch a drop of red wine and forced a laugh. “Oh. Right.”

“By all means, though, sing Lizzie’s praises.” Laurel grinned. “I don’t mind. I happen to agree with you.”

Rubbing my jaw, I laughed at myself. “I’m sorry. I haven’t been on a date in a couple of years. I’m…out of practice.”

“You’re doing great.”

“I’ve been divorced about three years. My kid’s ten. He’s awesome. We put up our Christmas tree this week, and you should’ve seen his face. Can I be a lame dad for a second?” I said, pulling out my phone. “I want to show you a picture.”

Laurel leaned forward. “Sure.”

I pulled one of the shots Lizzie had sent—the one where Mikey looked thrilled and I was laughing beside him. “Here. That’s him.”

Lips curling as she looked at the photo, Laurel nodded. “That’s a fantastic shot.”

“Lizzie took it, actually.” The words slipped out before I could stop myself. I knew I shouldn’t keep talking about another woman while I was on a date with the one across from me. But all roads seemed to lead back to Lizzie.

Besides, Laurel didn’t seem to mind. “She’s a really talented photographer. Has she shown you any of her landscapes?”

I put my phone away and shook my head. “No. I had no idea she did it professionally.”

“Oh, she doesn’t. But she could. She has a few hanging in her living room, shots from the bluff overlooking the ocean just on the edge of town.”

I thought of the pictures I’d seen in her home, and my brows jumped. I’d thought they were professional prints.

The waiter came by to take our orders. I found myself relaxing as the date progressed. I could see why Lizzie thought Laurel and I would get along. Laurel was gregarious and funny and charismatic. We shared a lot of interests, and she promised to send me a list of good hikes to check out in the spring.

But there was no spark. No pit-of-my-gut thrill every time she looked at me. When the candlelight flickered over her skin, I found myself thinking about Lizzie’s full cheeks, and how they showed every shade of red depending on her emotions.

We decided to skip dessert. I paid the bill and walked Laurel to her car. With her keys in her hand, she glanced up at me, the light from a nearby streetlight illuminating her face. When she stepped into me and tilted her head to press a kiss to my lips, I kissed her back. It was a short, almost chaste kiss, and the only thing I felt when she pulled away was relief.

Laurel smiled at me, that same soft, strange smile as before. “Just had to check,” she said.

“Check what?”

She shook her head. “Never mind. Thank you for dinner.”

“I had a good time.”

Her smile turned a little wry. “I did too, but—and you can tell me if it’s just me—I think you’re not feeling a spark.”

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