Page 72 of Someone Just Like You

“No. Maybe? I don’t know.”

“You’re all out of the house living your own lives.”

“Exactly. Isn’t the hard part over? I would have thought once you guys were empty nesters, the passion would reignite…like another newlywed period…not burn out. Can’t you make it about you now?”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? Raising you girls bonded us, and when you weren’t there, our detachment became harder to ignore.”

“I thought you were happy. We all did.”

She sighed. “We changed over the years. Sometimes change brings you closer, and other times it drives you apart.”

I didn’t have to ask under which category they fell. “Changed how?” I held my breath in case I’d pushed her too far or, worse, she citedperformanceissuesor something equally gross as their downfall.

“We stopped…I don’t know…doing little things to make each other happy.” Before I had a chance to request elaboration, she continued. “I remember when I would scour restaurant menus because your dad loved roasted chicken, and oddly enough, not many restaurants prepare it that way—chicken breast, chicken cutlet, fried chicken, yes, but not roasted. I had fun hunting down restaurants where your dad could order his favorite dish. Making him happy mademehappy. And it wasn’t just me. When I went back to work part-time after you started kindergarten, I felt lost. Everyone was either a stay-at-home mom, like Laura, or worked full-time. Your dad learned about Meetup. It was new at the time. He found me a group for mothers in the county who worked part-time. It meant the world to me that he cared so much.”

I could hear her smile through the phone, and it was contagious. “That’s romantic! So, what happened? You both stopped doing sweet things for each other? Did you ever talk about it?”

“I think when it doesn’t come naturally…when it’s not an instinct…it means the magic is gone.”

I slouched in my chair. “If you’re sure there’s nothing we—I can do to make things better between you guys, I promise to stop meddling.” I meant it. None of my plans had worked, and even though their separation gutted me, it was time to move on.

“You’re my sweetest girl. The only thing you can do…”

My ears perked up.

“Is enjoy Jude and not worry about us.”

“Fine,” I said, my heart quickening at his name.

When we said goodbye a few minutes later, I was still smiling at the thought of my mom scouring restaurant menus for roasted chicken to make my dad happy. Those days were over, but Mom was right: it was time to focus on my own romantic relationship and leave theirs to them. I remembered what Jude had said about opening his own restaurant someday. Where had I read something recently about launching a restaurant? I squished my face as if it would help my recollection. Oh yes, it was inForbes—the same issue as Rosaria’s interview. I still had the magazine somewhere in my…I opened my desk drawer, where a photo of the US veep smiled up at me.There you are!I thumbed through the table of contents until I saw it: “Key Tips for Launching a Restaurant.” Guessing there were more articles where this came from, I searched the internet for tips for opening a restaurant.Only 167 million results.

Even though my parents weren’t together anymore, I could still learn from what Mom had said about the joy of making your partner happy. The most useful articles were probably in the first three pages of results. I’d print and hole-punch them into a binder for Jude. It would take hours, but what was time when you were helping someone you loved make his dream come true?

I sucked in a breath.I love Jude Stark.

Chapter Thirty-Three

After work that day, I circled the crowded bar at Hillstone until I found an available stool. It didn’t take long for Jude to see me—orsmellme, as he’d so charmingly once teased. He turned away from the patron whose order he was taking and cocked his head at me. The confusion on his face was expected since I hadn’t told him I was coming. I smiled and waved.I love him.

His eyes lit up, and he gave me the “one second” sign before turning his attention back to his customer.

He finished what he was doing and walked toward me. “I’m happy to see you, but was I supposed to know you were coming? Did I forget?”

I shook my head. “Nope. I made something for you and couldn’t wait to share it.”

“You have me intrigued, but it’s not a great time.” He motioned around the crowded bar. “I can pour you a glass of wine if you want to wait until it slows down. Are you hungry?”

My panties semi-melted at his instinct to care for me. “Yes please, on the wine. Not hungry.”

A minute later, Jude returned to his work, and I nursed a generous pour of red and daydreamed about the launch of his restaurant. Much of the advice I’d read included hosting a “soft opening” with friends and family to sample the menu and work out kinks. I could already picture the Starks and the Blums, along with Alex, Jerry, and Esther, seated around a long table toasting Jude and his staff on a job well done.

“Lucky stem.”

I turned my head to face my neighbor. “Excuse me?”

The guy, a thirtysomething “suit” with blond hair and a stocky build, motioned at my finger absently stroking the leg of my wineglass and blushed. “Bad pickup line?”

I laughed. “Cringeworthy.”

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