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“He only got worse after Mom died,” I said now. “Then my own marriage went mushroom-shaped well past the time I thought we were safe from that. So, not a lot of faith, you know?”

I could feel Michelle’s eyes on me. I felt like a shit for bringing the mood down, but I didn’t know how to fix it.

“I’m sorry about your mom,” she said after a moment.

Something pricked in my chest. It had been years since someone had said that, and for a moment, the prick grew to an ache I hadn’t felt in a long time. Mom had been my defender when Dad and I fought. She always supported me wanting to go to college and pursue a career in the public sector, no matter how hard Dad tried to push me to get my mechanic license and take over the family garage. She’d been there for me, and then she’d died.

“Thanks,” I said, my voice stiff. “It was a long time ago.”

“Doesn’t mean it stops hurting. Or so I’ve heard.”

I glanced over at her, suddenly feeling deeply insensitive. I’d lost a parent when I was already an adult. Mom may not have met my kids, but I’d had more than two decades with her. And my ex-wife had been around, even if our marriage had imploded. Michelle had lost her spouse. That was a whole other ball game. I wanted to tell her I was sorry about her husband—that I wished it had never happened to her, that it was goddamned tragic he’d died and she had to raise her two girls on her own. But she looked straight ahead as if knowing what I was thinking and clearly not wanting to go there.

“You know,” she said brightly, “Other people might say you’re a cynic about marriage because you just haven’t found the right person yet.”

I harrumphed. “My dad couldn’t have met a better person than my mom and look where the hell that got him.”

But I couldn’t shake the voice in the back of my head that told me she was right. That Iwasjust like him and I was doomed to end up just like him, alone and angry.

“You’re incurable, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

She frowned. Awkwardness clung to the air around us. It was my damn fault, of course.

“I’m sorry,” I said, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “I didn’t mean to start talking about this,” I said. “You’re going to think I’m a heartless ass.”

“Oh, I already thought that,” she said. Her lips twitched and something tight in my chest loosened.

“Well at least I know how to have a good time,” I said. “Unlike Ms. I want to smash my car in the ditch to avoid going on a date.”

“I told you it wasn’t a date!” Michelle gawped, but I could see the laughter in her cheeks, in the way she looked as if she was trying hard not to let it out.

“This isn’t either,” I said. It was supposed to be for me, that reminder. But I realized it had come out like some kind of insult.

The lightness faded in her eyes. “Obviously.”

Fuck. I really was an ass.

* * *

Even from outsidewe could hear the music had already started. Good. I needed it to drown out my anger at myself for being such a dick.

What had possessed me to say that?This isn’t a date.

You’re pushing her away. Just like you pushed—

I interrupted the thought by quickly scrubbing my face with my hand. I wouldn’t think about my ex-wife and how efficiently I’d destroyed that relationship.

Michelle strode ahead of me into the coffee shop, nearly slamming the door in my face.

So, things were going well so far.

The space was large, with high ceilings and exposed ductwork overhead, and the proprietors had clearly maximized the number of seats permitted by the fire department. At least fifteen round tables dotted the room, with several clusters of couches and easy chairs toward the back. Next to us, the coffee bar looked more like a bar-bar with the server handing patrons beer and wine. Every seat appeared to be taken. Great.

The band, a three-piece folksy ensemble with a bearded hipster guy on the bass, a pretty young blonde woman, who couldn’t be much older than Hannah, on the mic, and a stunning lanky brown-skinned woman with a completely bald head and about thirty earrings on the drums, made me feel old as dirt. All three of them were singing in harmony to an old Bob Dylan song.

At least there was something for me here.