Page 75 of The Trouble with Flings

Fitz

The brisk air hits us as we leave the restaurant. Jennifer tips her face up toward the clear night sky, taking a deep breath as we fall into step on the sidewalk.

I got to see a side of her tonight I didn’t know I was missing. I loved seeing my wild girl with her sister. It’s easy to see they’re best friends. They have their own unspoken language like Wells and I do. Watching Jennifer track Reggie with the protectiveness of someone who’s spent a lifetime looking out for her sister was like a preview of how I imagine she’ll be with our child. It makes me want to know every other version of her that I have yet to discover.

Tonight stirred something else in me, too. Something unexpected and premature but undeniable. If things work out with Jennifer and me the way I hope they will, I want our baby to have a sibling close in age. Someone to count on and harangue, to share an unspoken language with that only they can understand.

But that’s a thought for sometime in the future, so I tuck it away and reach for Jennifer’s hand. “How does it feel, wild girl?”

“The air? Crisp and cool and nice.”

“I meant surviving our first double date.”

“That was not a double date. That was a coincidence.”

“A coincidence? Are you the same woman who didn’t believe your sister when she used that story when we got there?”

“Maybe,” she says.

“If that helps you sleep at night.” I lace our fingers together. “I’m calling it a fated date. What’s Reggie and Mia’s story, anyway? Was that really just a friendly dinner?”

“I’m not entirely sure, but I think they’re making progress.”

“So you are rooting for it to be more?” I ask as we make our way down the street. “I thought I picked up on that, but you gave him some warnings.”

“I think they’d be good together, but he gets in his own way sometimes.”

Sounds like someone else I know. “Don’t we all?” I say. “I like Mia. She’s sharp and funny. Did you have fun today?”

She gives me a rascally expression. “You mean hanging out with a guy who likes pastries, books, and folding laundry? And getting a foot rub I didn’t consent to?”

“You consented.”

“I fell asleep.”

“Very happily, I might add,” I say, and she relents.

When we reach the corner, I turn right instead of going straight.

She stops walking. “This is the wrong way. My place is down a few more blocks.”

“We’re taking the scenic route,” I say, on the move again.

“I thought you didn’t know the city.”

“I’m learning.” I glance at her. “I looked a few things up while you were sleeping. There’s a park up here by the river.”

“Always prepared. You really are a Boy Scout.”

“Given your present condition, I think it’s fair to say I’m not always prepared.”

We both laugh, and it carries down the block.

“I’m not ready for tonight to end,” I say.

She smiles, and I have a feeling she’s not ready either.

As we walk toward Carl Schurz Park, we talk about how different the city is from the island, where we’d be serenaded by the sounds of breaking waves rather than braking traffic, and somehow that leads to a game of Would You Rather.