Page 6

“That can still shake the hell out of you.”

“It did.”

The server returns with my coffee, and I wrap both hands around it without drinking. For most of the drive here, I kept remembering the women from finance talking about Saturday, about how Megan had plans. Of course she did. Everyone makes plans as if the calendar has already agreed to cooperate.

“She was forty-six.”

“That’s too young.”

“She was two years younger than me.”

Blair takes a sip of bourbon. “That’s also too young.”

I finally take a sip of coffee. “I’ve spent four years acting as if I’ve got unlimited time to decide what I want to do with the rest of my life.”

“That sounds like the sort of realization people usually pay therapists to reach.”

“I’m getting it free from a traumatic workplace event.”

“Efficient.”

A halfhearted laugh escapes me, and Blair reaches for another fry. My food arrives, and for a few minutes I concentrate on ketchup, napkins, and the practical problem of eating a burger taller than my mouth. It helps. I don’t need Blair to make Megan’s death profound. I need to sit across from someone who knows me well enough not to be frightened by silence. Halfway through my burger, Blair asks, “So what exactly have you been postponing?”

“You’re going to make me regret bringing this up.”

“Probably. Answer anyway.”

I pull a pickle slice free from the burger and eat it before I answer. “Whether I want someone again.”

Blair pauses with her glass near the table. “That seems specific.”

“It’s new.”

“How new?”

“I went on thirteen dates.”

Blair stares at me. “Thirteen?”

“I was committed to giving dating a fair trial.”

“And?”

“Three were particularly educational.”

I give her the abbreviated version: Graham, who couldn’t name a single thing he wanted badly enough to spend a free month doing it; Martin, who informed me that his usual type was tall, thin, blonde, and long-haired while sitting across from me; and Stephen, who made it through an entire dinner without asking me one question about myself.

“And those were the highlights?”

“I said educational, not good.”

“Martin’s an ass, and Stephen should date a mirror.”

I laugh. “That would probably save him a fortune.”

The other ten weren’t disasters. Somehow that made the whole experiment more exhausting, not less.

Blair rests her forearms on the table. “So the problem isn’t that you tried dating. It’s that dating reminded you how much effort it takes to find somebody worth wanting.”