Page 52 of Merry Little Midlife Matchmaker

He snorted. “Yeah. I haven’t thought about this stuff before. I thought we got divorced because of the infidelity, but maybe there was more to it than that.”

“There usually is.”

“You must think I’m pathetic, saying all this to you.”

I ran my thumb along the tops of his fingers and shook my head. “Not even a little bit.”

When he shifted his hand against mine, I should have pulled away. But he slid his palm forward and caught my fingers with his, and it felt so good to be touched like that, so soft and gentle, that I couldn’t bring myself to stop it.

“I never felt like a priority in my marriage either,” I heard myself say. In some corner of my brain, I cursed myself for the confession. This lunch meeting wasn’t about me. I shouldn’t have been holding hands and telling him my deepest secrets. I was supposed to find him a date. Someone who would share his perfect days. Someone who would fit beside him, who wouldn’t make strangers wonder why a guy like him would be with a woman like her.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Sean said, a corner of his lips tilting. “You’re a giver. Selfish people take advantage of people like you.”

“That’s a very nice way of saying doormat and people pleaser,” I answered with a wry smile, finally pulling my hand away.

“Don’t do that, Lizzie. Don’t put yourself down.”

I opened my mouth to answer, but our food arrived. I sat back and smiled at the teenage waitress, then inhaled the aroma of my soup and extra-cheesy grilled cheese. Sean had ordered an enormous sandwich for himself. We commented on how good the food looked, and after a bite or two, talked about how good it tasted. I used those moments to walk myself back from the ledge and remember why I was here.

I dipped the corner of my grilled cheese into my soup and said, “I think I know who might be a good fit for you.”

Sean chewed his sandwich and watched me. When he’d swallowed, he said, “Is that right?”

“Uh-huh. She’s a mom.”

“Okay.”

“She’s really easygoing. Her divorce was really contentious, but I think she’s ready to start dating again.”

Interest sparked in his eyes, and a little part of me died. Sean said, “Oh yeah?”

I ripped into my grilled cheese with my teeth to hide my disappointment, and I nodded. “Cindy Reynolds,” I told him. “You’ll love her.”

His shoulders dropped slightly, and an emotion flashed across his face. Disappointment? It was too fast for me to read. He gave me an encouraging smile. All he said was, “Why not?”

TWENTY-FOUR

SEAN

Heart’s Covewas home to many artists, and when Cindy and I had exchanged messages, she said she was interested in one of the exhibits at a gallery on Cove Boulevard. We decided to meet outside the gallery on a clear-skied, crisp Friday afternoon.

Christmas was less than a week away; somehow, with all the excitement and distraction, I hadn’t noticed the holiday creeping up on me. Melody would be in town soon to pick Mikey up for their time together.

The month of December hadn’t been fraught with sleepless nights and old demons. It had been…nice. That was a shock.

I got out of my truck when Cindy arrived and greeted her outside the gallery. She was a statuesque woman that I recognized from school drop-offs and pick-ups. Her dark-blond hair was clipped at the back of her head, and she smiled at me above a knitted white scarf tucked into a black pea coat.

“Good to see you again,” she said, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

I opened the gallery door for her and we stepped inside before stripping off our outerwear. Cindy wore a fitted dress that showed off her curves. She caught me staring and gave me a shysmile, then folded her jacket over her arm and tilted her head toward the artwork in front of us. “What do you think?”

“Hitting me with the hard questions right off the bat,” I joked, and studied the painting. It was a landscape, and I recognized one of the lookout points that Lizzie had photographed and framed in her house. Waves crashed at the base of the cliffs, foaming white and blue. “I like it,” I finally replied. “It feels like it’s moving.”

Cindy’s smile widened. “I agree.”

We walked slowly, stopping at whatever art pieces caught our gazes, and I learned that she’d lived in Heart’s Cove for a little over a decade. She’d moved here with her ex before they divorced and decided to stay since her kids were settled.

“It’s a great place to raise kids,” she said. “You just have the one, right?”

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