She studied me, like she had a question she wasn’t sure she should ask.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
I narrowed my eyes at her.
She sighed softly. “I guess I’m just wondering if you’ve kissed anyone since…?” She trailed off.
And I knew whatshe meant.
“Since Alisha?” I asked, a pit forming in my stomach.
“Yeah.”
I looked down at my plate and let out a slow breath. “I haven’t.”
“So it’s been over two years,” she whispered.
I nodded, looking at the clouds off in the distance with the hope that it would keep my emotions in check.
“Do you think that’s weird?” I asked. “That I’ve waited so long?”
“No, of course not,” she said immediately. “Everyone moves at their own pace. And you’ve had a lot on your plate. And losing your spouse is different from divorce. Comes with its own set of emotions and timeline.”
“It does.”
She shifted slightly. “Sorry about not being a very good wingwoman when Amanda assumed you were divorced. I just kind of froze.”
“It’s okay.” I sighed. “I obviously froze, too. It’s always weird having to explain.”
“At least Miles knew what to do,” she offered, cutting a piece of meat. “Turns out, Miles is a better wingman than I am, even when he didn’t pre-agree to the job.”
“He’s good for something, at least,” I said with a small chuckle. Then, wanting to steer the conversation away from myself, I asked, “How did things go with you guys, anyway? Is Miles head over heels for you yet?”
She laughed. “Yeah, right.”
“He seemed to have a good time,” I said, nudging her playfully with my elbow. “You both did. I was watching.”
I’d seen the way they leaned toward each other. The quiet whispers. The shared smiles.
Like they had their own inside jokes already.
When she didn’t say something, I added, “And he was holding your hand when we walked out of dinner, wasn’t he?”
“He was,” she admitted. “But that’s just holding hands.”
“Hey, that’s a big deal to some of us.” I raised my hands in surrender. “I certainly haven’t really done that.”
The words were out before I could stop them.
“Sorry,” I hurried to say, suddenly feeling overly exposed. “I think I might actually need professional help with dating. I’m so bad at it.”
“Were you always a slower mover?” she asked, poking at her green beans before finally meeting my eyes.
“Not always. I was never super fast either, but…” I trailed off, because the truth was more complicated than that.
Before, I hadn’t been afraid.