“Okay, not a bar. The library.”
“Because those of us who don’t spend our nights with West’s Tennessee Whiskey are all at the library.”
She continues, ignoring my interruption. “You don’t know those guys. They could be alcoholics or users. He came to the meeting. You should give him a chance.
“I wish it were that simple, but...” I hold up a hand as her mouth opens. “He’s gorgeous and he knows it.”
“More,” she urges. She obviously stopped listening after gorgeous.
“Dark hair. Blue eyes.” Tattoos I want to trace with my tongue. I know to keep that bit to myself.
“All I’m saying”—Amie lowers her voice conspiratorially—“is that you need to get laid.”
I open the freezer door, allowing the glass to fog between us as I snatch a bag of frozen peas.
“I do not need to get laid,” I grumble as I throw them in the cart, ignoring Max’s attempt to catch them.
“No one has ever needed to get laid as much as you do.” Her voice pitches up a notch earning a withering glance from a woman across the aisle. “He’s the only proof you’ve ever gone to bed with a man.”
“Proof enough, don’t you think?” I bypass her and head toward the cereal aisle to grab the Cheerios I forgot.
Amie shakes her head with a laugh as she follows me. In the cart, Max begins to sign:
What is l-a-i-d?
“Good job, Aunt Amie.” I groan, shooting her a dirty look.
“He is getting really good at lip reading.” She grabs a box of the sugary crap I never buy my son and signs back to him.
He nods eagerly, bribed too easily by the promise of marshmallows for breakfast to remember his question.
“My bad,” she whispers as he studies the box.
“Not a big deal. I forget, too.” The lip reading is new, courtesy of the amazing new special education teacher that began with the school district this year. “Three months and she’s already made more progress than I ever have.”
“With his communication,” Amie tacks on. “No one can replace you.”
It’s not the first time she’s told me this. I’m pretty certain she made it her personal mission to praise me daily since the moment we met.
“Thanks,” I say softly.
“For what?” She shrugs as if she has no clue.
“For sticking with me through the neurotic, single mothering experiment I’ve found myself in for all these years.”
“Thank you for letting me stick by you.”
I don’t miss the emphasis in her words. “I can’t let everyone in.”
“Agreed, and you have done an admirable job filtering out the rotten ones. But, honey, having a dick doesn’t automatically disqualify a person for friendship.”
I stare at her. “I can’t wait to explain Max’s colorful new vocabulary at preschool.”
“What? Max wasn’t looking.” She throws her hands up in surrender.
“I’m not going out with this guy. I don’t even know why I told you about him.” Whatever had possessed me to share had abandoned me now.
“You were attracted to him,” she informs me, “and you’ve forgotten what that was like, so naturally you’re confused.”
“It wasn’t that.”
But she’s not paying attention, instead she’s grabbed a cucumber from the cart and is holding it up suggestively. At this time, she’s circled to the back of the cart so Max can’t see. “I can give you a quick sex ed briefing.”
Despite myself, I laugh as she runs her fingers seductively down its length. “I think I remember the gist.”
“Are you sure?” Her eyes widen with mischief.
“I’m not sure the manager will look favorably on vegetable abuse,” a husky voice interrupts from behind me.
I spin toward it, careful to keep one hand on the shopping cart. All the clever comebacks and curt denials I’ve developed over five years of being single desert me when I see him.
He must have bought stock in a fitted t-shirt company. Where does he work that allows him to dress so casually? Or maybe his boss is just a woman who doesn’t mind the show?
Amie appears at my side, holding the cucumber out in surrender.
“I’m not the manager,” he reassures her and gestures to his cart, which holds a few brown paper wrapped packages from the meat department and a lonely crown of broccoli. “I’d be game for a demonstration though.”
“Not in front of the kid,” Amie says apologetically but she’s looking between us now. No doubt she’s already remembering the description I gave of my mystery man.
“That’s a shame.” He’s not looking at her as he speaks. His eyes study me then look to Max who is now hugging the cereal box.
At least I won’t have to worry about giving in to my curiosity. Max’s existence has just nailed that coffin shut for me.
“Faith, right?” Jude asks, his attention still riveted on Max. “And who’s this?”