Page 117 of Letting Go at 40

“Us McCaryn girls are a bunch of sluts,” I joke.

Amelia guffaws. “No, we aren’t. We’re modern women in our forties, enjoying life and taking what we want from it.”

Curling to my side on the bed, I tuck up my knees. “Huh. I’m a mother of three, and a widow.”

That shouldn’t make me un-sex-able, but I still can’t believe what Mason and I did. I’d practically begged him to make love to me and then he rocked my world, doing to me things I’d never done, making me feel in ways I’ve never felt.

“You’re more than a mother and a widow, Anna. Your children are individual human beings and do not define you. As for being a widow, that’s not a definition of you either.” Amelia sighs. “You’re a woman who has desires. Wants and needs, and they deserve to be met. As long as no one is hurt, you should seek whatever brings you joy.”

“Do you think I’ll hurt him?” I pause a second. “Will he hurt me?” What if I am just the woman he never had? Now, he’s had me. Did I disappoint or satisfy him? Why am I questioning myself?

“You might hurt him, and he might hurt you, but no one ever enters a relationship with thoughts of heartache. You can’t think like that, or you’ll never be in a relationship.”

Says the woman who hasn’t been in a committed relationship for years.

“Look, I get it. You’re sensitive. Romantic. You’re really falling for him and don’t know what to do with all those feelings because you’ve only been through this once before.”

Ben.

“It’s okay not to have all the answers tonight or tomorrow or even next week. You like him, right?”

“Yeah,” I whisper, a smile curls my lips, happiness ringing in my tone.

“And he likes you.” There isn’t a question or doubt in her voice.

“Yeah,” I agree even quieter.

“Then there isn’t an issue.” Amelia pauses. “Unless his dick is tiny, which I refuse to believe about him.”

“Amelia!” I shriek, falling to my back again and dropping my legs off the side of the bed. I scoff and decide we need a subject change. “So who is this stranger of yours?”

“Just what the name implies. A stranger. Someone I don’t know and probably won’t ever see again.”

“How do you know?”

“Because the city has three million people and if I divide it unfairly down the middle of men and women, I still have a one in one and a half million chance of seeing him again.”

“Did he have a big dick?” I burst into riotous giggles after asking. I don’t really want to know.

“You are a secret slut, aren’t you?” Amelia teases back.

“Ha ha.” I mock.

“Seriously, just enjoy Mason. Don’t overthink. For once in your life, just let go a little.”

Her words remind me of Mason’s expression when I made a toast about letting go. Even when I repeated myself, his face was almost . . . pained. Then he kissed me, and my thoughts scattered.

“I’m trying,” I reply to her.

“Good. Now, back to details. Length? Height? And rank?”

“You’re impossible.”

“These are important features. Inches. Thickness. And on a scale of one to ten—”

“Good night, Amelia.”

“You called me, remember?”