Page 35 of Between Now and Forever
“About four years ago.”
“Why here?”
A shadow filters across his face. Lines bunch around his eyes, and his shoulders are taut. He makes a point of swallowing before he speaks.
“Just needed a change of scenery,” he says.
“Where did you move here from?”
“Indiana.”
I wait for him to expand on his answer and elaborate a bit. But he remains unflinching.
Okay ...He’s not giving me much to work with, but he’s not clamming up. Maybe if I push a tiny bit, he’ll give me a nugget of information about himself.
“I had dinner tonight with Cricket, Della, and Scottie,” I say. “They said you were a good neighbor.”
“They all seem nice.”
“Do you know any of them well?”
He shakes his head.
“Why not?” I ask.
“Because I don’t care enough to know them well.”
His answer is straightforward, but it doesn’t satisfy my curiosity.Why?
“If you’d like to get to know them, maybe we could have a neighborhood potluck or something and—”
“You’re missing the point.”
“Which is . . .”
He side-eyes me and sighs. “Look, I appreciate your misplaced sense of ... whatever this is, but I’m not a people person. I don’t need to get to know everyone on the street. I don’t want to, as a matter of fact.”
I blow out a breath and sink deeper into the cushions. “Aren’t you lonely? Don’t you miss having connections with people?”
“No.” He rolls his head around his neck. “I take it you do.”
“Yes, I do. Don’t you fear growing old alone?”
“I’d rather grow old alone than with the wrong person, Gabrielle.”
My instinct is to argue with him. But that actually makes sense.
Christopher thought the exact same way, so much so that he divorced me.“I love you too much to let you grow old with the wrong person, Gabs.”
Leave it to me to be attracted to two men who think I’m the wrong person.
“I don’t know that I even want to grow old with someone, per se,” I say. “I want companionship more than anything. Don’t get me wrong. I lovelove. It’s beautiful and wonderful when it’s right. But I’m not even after that at this point.”
Jay leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His eyes are clear as he listens. His attentiveness encourages me to continue.
“I just want to feel like a woman again,” I say. “Love isn’t necessary. I just want a reason to get dolled up on Friday nights. I want someone to laugh with, cuddle up to—someone to have fun sex with.”
You’re not talking to the girls, Gabby. Shut up.
