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See? No harm, no foul.
Everything between Tyler Dixon and me is under control.
* * *
I don’t listento my usual breakup music during my ride home from the carnival. Instead, I find myself scanning through my favorite songs, picking out which ones to include on a love song playlist for Tyler Dixon. Not that I will ever actually send it to him, because I won’t. But I make the list anyway.
It’s titledUn-frog-ettable Love Songs.
CHAPTER12
TYLER
“She was the best dressed woman there,” Paul says.
It’s Sunday afternoon. We’re sitting at the cemetery between our wives’ graves. Krew runs out in front of us, and I send a football through the air. Because of my sitting position, I don’t get enough force behind it, and the ball ends up short at his feet.
“What was she wearing?” I’m intrigued. What do sixty-plus-year-old men find attractive when looking for a new wife?
“She had on a nice black dress and heels with pretty jewelry. Her hair was arranged in a nice way. She looked very nice.”
Nice.
An image of Meg at the carnival comes to my mind. She had on a green dress with white flowers, a white cardigan, and Keds. Kristen always said a woman should wear heels with dresses. So I’m conflicted, thinking Kristen wouldn’t like Meg because of this tiny detail. For some reason, I want to think that Kristen and Meg would be friends. But Keds are practical for a teacher, and Meg looked casual and cute. Exactly whatI’mlooking for.
It’s weird that I’m cataloging things that I’m looking for in a woman. Three weeks ago, when I went on the blind date with Candi, I wasn’t even entertaining the idea of dating. Now, the possibility is growing on me.
The ball comes flying back to me, and I reach my arms above my head to catch it. “But you said the woman you met at the dance last night looks like your wife.”
Paul’s brows lift. “Exactly like my wife.” He starts fumbling with his phone. “Here, I’ll show you a picture. I searched her up on The Facebook.”
Paul’s on Facebook? Or as he says,TheFacebook. I don’t even have a social media presence.
He hands his phone to me. “There,” he says, pointing to the picture of a woman with chin-length black hair and dark features. “That’s Anna Mae.”
“Anna Mae? Two names?”
“Yes.”
I zoom in on the picture. “She’s very pretty.”
Paul grabs his phone back. “Now look at a picture of my wife, Marilyn.” His fingers swipe a few times before he shoves the phone back in front of my face. “Don’t they look alike?”
My mouth drops. “Is this the same woman?”
“No, that’s my wife, Marilyn.”
I squint my eyes, staring at the picture harder. I see chin-length dark hair, dark features, and a bright smile. “Thisis your wife?” I glance at Paul and catch him nodding. “They don’t just lookalike. They lookexactlyalike.”
“I know. My daughter, Tessa, made a side-by-side for me this morning. Swipe one more time so you can see their two pictures next to each other.”
I can’t believe what I’m looking at. Anna Mae, the new woman Paul is interested in, is the spitting image of his late wife, with only a few subtle differences. Anna Mae’s lips are a little thinner than Marilyn’s, and Marilyn has on more dramatic makeup, but other than that, they look like they could be twins…sisters, at least.
“Dad, throw the ball!” Krew yells. I fumble with the football in my lap, finding the laces before sending it across the cemetery to him.
“Isn’t it weird to be interested in a woman that looks exactly like your dead wife?”
Paul chuckles. “A little bit at first. But when Anna Mae talks, that’s when I can see the differences between her and Marilyn, and I forget that they look alike. In my mind, they are two very different people.”
