by Mia Malone
***
Nina
“He was married?” Layla said, brows high on her forehead.
“Yup,” I said.
“And then the other one was married too?”
“Uh-huh,” I confirmed.
“Shit.”
“Double-shit, actually,” I snorted. “I’m off men.”
“Nina...”
“I am,” I insisted. “I’ve washed enough tighty whities to last me a lifetime.”
“Dave wears –” She cut herself off, and I saw laughter in her eyes, but she pushed it back and got up from the couch. “I’m going to get some more wine.”
“I’m a little bit not sober at all,” I informed her.
I never got drunk, except when shit hit the fan, and it was just Layla and me.
So, yeah. Now I was slightly beyond mildly inebriated, but since she was spending the night at my place, so was she.
“Totally,” she said.
“You should only drink because you’re happy. Not to get happier,” I said for no reason at all.
Someone had said that to me that back when I was a teenager, and I’d thought it was utter bullshit. My parents had always told me that I should only drink when I felt like it, only something that tasted good and only for as long as my dignity was intact, which had made a lot more sense to me.
“Are you unhappy?” Layla asked.
I didn’t have to think about that, so when she returned with the Prosecco, I raised my glass.
“I’m not unhappy, Lay,” I said.
“I know. Bellini?” she asked and wiggled the small plastic tub she’d brought.
A real Italian Bellini should be made with puréed white peaches, but that was hard to find. When the girls were toddlers, I realized that the puréed peaches from the baby food section were a reasonably okay and completely effortless substitute. I’d served my whole swanky neighborhood baby-Bellinis for years, and they were famous, but they didn’t know what a Bellini tasted like when you had it with a group of friends, squinting against the Italian sun. They wouldn’t miss that taste of sweetness and bubbly laughter. The other women had looked recipes up on the internet and asked more than once where I bought ripe peaches. I just winked and shared that I had secret sources.
“God, yes,” I said with a sigh.
She plopped a spoon of peach in each glass, topped it up with Prosecco, and used the spoon to stir it a little.
“What are you going to do now?” she asked.
“I’ll build a deck,” I stated and gestured toward my abysmal backyard. “When spring comes, I’ll plant some lavender.”
“Plant lavender?” she echoed.
“Come,” I said and heaved myself out of the couch. “I’ll show you.”
We stood on the dirty patio, sipping Bellinis and talking about lavender and other low maintenance plants. The cool breeze cleared my head, and I smiled.
“Nina,” Layla said quietly. “You really are happy, right?”
“Yeah,” I said with a sigh. “I really am. It’s a lot easier to be lonely when you’re actually alone.”
“Oh, honey...”
“Don’t feel sorry for me. It wasn’t bad, being married to Dave. It just wasn’t good, or... not good enough, at least.”
“Are you lonely?”
“A little.”
“You could date –” She raised a hand when I wanted to protest. “Casually, Nina. Not to get laid or whatever.”
“I don’t want to. I think I need some time, and it’s a bit clichéd, but I’m figuring stuff out about me. Silly things perhaps, but you know... how I used to like pink, and how much I like to wear dresses.”
“I remember,” she said. “You used to wear the prettiest things, and I never got why you stopped.”
“It wasn’t deliberate, Lay. Somehow I just forgot. The kids, and Peaches, and I was always so busy. So, I ended up getting a bunch of black and gray suits for work, and mom-jeans for weekends.”
She choked on her Bellini but shook her head as she swallowed.
“You never had mom-jeans.”
“Almost, but I went shopping the other day, and you know what?” I took a deep swig of wine and gestured with the glass. “I like low-slung jeans, and I don’t have your curves, but gravity hasn’t hit my ass too bad, so I got a pair that looks pretty awesome.”
“It’s all the running.”
“True,” I said. “And I got a pink water boiler.”
“Kitchen Aid?”
“Smeg.”
“Good choice,” she said sagely and raised her glass in a toast. “So, except buying pink stuff and assalicious jeans, what are you really going to do next?”
“I’m going to just live my life without planning too much for a while. I’ll get the deck done and plant some stuff. Go to work. Run. Get a haircut.”
She looked at me searchingly, but then she narrowed her eyes and pursed her mouth.
“You really do need a haircut,” she said.
“Fuck you,” I said succinctly, even though she had a point since my hair had looked the same for years.
It was simply cut straight off at a length that let me put it in a neat twist at my neck when I worked, but I could do something different.
“Fuck you too,” she retorted sweetly.
“Excuse me,” a deep voice rumbled, and both Layla and I squealed loudly. “Sorry,” the voice said. “Didn’t mean to scare you. My mother sent me over with...”
The voice turned out to belong to a tall, muscular man who trailed off and stared at us.
We stared back at him, and I didn’t turn to check if Layla’s jaw also had dropped, but I suspected it had because holy smokes how hot the man was.
His straight hair was a little too long as if he’d missed his latest appointment at the hairdressers. It was a steely gray color similar to what I’d seen in magazines on what they called mature models, and it suited him fantastically well. His goatee was gray too, and he had lines around his dark brown eyes. His shoulders were so broad I wondered if he walked sideways through regular doors.
“Whuh,” I said after a short and uncomfortable silence.
“Hey there,” the man said. “Sorry. My mother asked me to stop by and give you this.”
I looked at the jar he held out and realized who he was.
“You’re Mrs. Moretti’s handsome and successful son,” I blurted out, realized what I’d said and tried to backtrack. “According to her, of course.” It occurred to me that I might have just told the man that I thought he was ugly, so I added, “And, um, according to me too. Obviously.”
“What?” he asked with a chuckle.
“Layla?” I said desperately.
“Yes,” she said weakly. “Me too.”
“What?” the man repeated.
Oh, dear Lord. We were acting like starstruck fools, and one of us had to get a grip. Since Layla kept staring at him, it had to be me getting that grip, and immediately.
“I'm so sorry,” I said with what I hoped was calm and adult somberness. Luca Moretti was a police detective, after all, so drooling whilst under the influence might not be a good move. “We were just a bit surprised. I'm Nina.”
“I know,” he said with a grin. “I’m Luke.” He barked out a short laugh and added, “Mrs. Moretti’s handsome and successful son.”
“Sorry about that,” I mumbled. “Your mother has talked about you.”
“Yeah,” he said with a wince. “She does that.”
The look on his face told me that he wasn’t too happy with his mother’s matchmaking attempts, and I couldn’t hold back a small giggle.
“We’re drinking Bellinis,” I informed him. “Can I get you one?”
Chapter Six
Management consultant
Nina
“Stupid shit,” I growled.
Why on earth had I thought it would be easy to build a small deck myself?
Or even doable.
“The stones on the patio is even,
so it’s just a few planks, and I’ve bought a cordless screwdriver.”
This was what I’d confidently told an openly laughing Layla, and also Jacob, who managed to stop laughing long enough to share that he wanted picture evidence of my progress.
Layla offered to come over to assist me, but she was away for the weekend when the material was delivered to my backyard, so I started out on my own. I’d ordered the support beams pre-cut, so it was easy to lay them out as per a pattern the internet had told me would be appropriate. The screwdriver was fun, and I laughed loudly while I put the first plank in place.
Then the problems started.
The internet had also told me that if I had work which required accurate cuts, I’d want to use some kind of power saw.
And this I would in no way do.
I’d never before operated any kind of power tool, and the thought of using something that so very easily could cut off a finger or five scared the bejesus out of me.
So, I bought a hand saw instead, thinking that it couldn’t be that hard. The deck was tiny, and I’d watched Bob the Builder with the kids, so I knew the motions required. It was like slicing bread, more or less.
“For fuck’s sake,” I growled when the saw stuck again.
After a few futile jerks which did not move the saw, I growled out a long string of f-bombs and raised my leg, thinking that kicking the damned thing might not help, but it would at least make me feel better.
“What are you doing?”
I turned quickly, prepared to take my frustration out on the tall, hot, police detective who was so eminently perfect for me, except for the fact that I did in no way want to get naked with him.
I’d tried that.
Or, no. I hadn’t actually tried it with Luke in real life, but I’d tried to imagine what it would be like. What he’d look like.
I’d been in bed and had moved my fingers through my folds, but just thinking about Luke had killed the mood immediately, so I rolled over on my belly and fell asleep instead. I didn’t get why I wasn’t attracted to him because he was ridiculously handsome, and a genuinely nice man.
Not like that other man who I tried really hard to not think about at all. Having a crush on a man you’d met briefly was silly, but having one on a married man was plain stupid.
So, I didn’t think about Matthias, except sometimes at night when I let myself remember the way his breaths had slid over me and how his eyes had brightened with laughter as we talked.
And yeah. How he looked, standing in his room wearing only boxer briefs. That memory pushed me over the edge every time and had given me some of the best orgasms I’d had in years.
Which was pathetic, and I should get over it.
Would get over it.
“What is it with you and sneaking into my backyard, Luca?” I snapped.
“Are you trying to...” One of his brows went up in a way that could only be described as sarcastic. “Saw?” he drawled.
“Yes,” I said primly.
He promptly started laughing and didn’t stop when Bobby Sunshine, my electrician, walked around the corner.
Then there were two laughing men in my backyard.
“What’s going on?” another male voice asked.
“Len!” I squealed.
He’d called a few weeks earlier and invited me to lunch, which I’d happily accepted. We’d ended up talking for so long we both had to rush back to our respective offices and make excuses for being late to meetings. He asked if I wanted to have dinner with him and just smiled sweetly when I told him that I wasn’t dating but would be happy to have lunch again when we could find the time in our pretty busy calendars.
Why he was in my backyard, I did not know.
He tried valiantly to hide his laughter, but I saw how the skin crinkled a little around his eyes and how his lips twitched.
I promptly asked them if they were misogynistic pigs.
Len informed me calmly that they were well aware that a woman certainly could build a deck, but that a woman with a business degree from Yale and a corporate career would likely not be very good at it. I had a hard time arguing against that, and when Luke offered to handle the saw, I happily accepted. Len reached for the screwdriver and muttered something about having an engineering degree, and Bobby Sunshine changed my design to include a couple of deck lights, which would look friggin’ awesome.
When both my daughters arrived, I was leaning against the wall, laughing at their bantering, and the deck was almost finished.
“Mom?” Ashley said. “Is it me, or aren’t there a lot of men here?”
“Well,” I mumbled.
“And they’re building a deck you swore would be easy-peasy,” Meggie added with a raised brow.
“Well...” I restarted. I should state something about girl power, or feminism, or whatever, but I ended up laughing helplessly. “I sucked at it,” I admitted. “But I tried, at least. And getting a couple of friends to build it for me was certainly easy-peasy.”
I was about to make coffee for everyone when the doorbell rang. Ashley went to open the door and came back followed by Jacob. I squealed happily as I threw the portafilter on the counter and spread my arms out.
“Hey there, sweetheart,” he said into my hair. “Should have called, but I wasn’t sure how long I’d be in town.”
“I’m so happy to see you,” I said. “Come! I built my deck. You have to check it out.”
Someone cleared his throat, and I turned to find Luke watching me with a grin and a raised brow.
“You built it?” he asked.
I started laughing and explained to Jacob that I had mostly been the architect slash supply chain specialist but hadn’t done much of the actual construction.
“Hey, what’s happening with the coff –” Len took a double-step, and then a wide grin spread on his face. “Jacob,” he said. “Good to see you.”
“Lennie,” Jacob rumbled as they did a quick man-hug. “Building decks these days?”
Lennie?
That was cute, and it wasn’t surprising that Jacob knew a man who had been friends with his son since second grade.
“Alrighty,” I chirped, pushing back thoughts about Matthias. “Who wants coffee?”
It turned out that everyone felt an urgent need for caffeine, so I sent Meggie over to the bakery for cupcakes, and then we inaugurated my new deck.
***
Jacob
Right.
Nina had needed time to get back on her feet when her marriage ended, and she’d hit a few bumps, but she’d made it to his home, ready to move on with her life.
For a short while, he thought fate had relieved him of interfering duties, but that had not been the case because Matthias had apparently messed his life up too.
He’d met his son for lunch earlier that day, though, and since Matty had finally pulled his head out of his ass, the mess had been promptly sorted out. Matthias’ focus and determination were qualities that sometimes could be pretty damned annoying, but it had helped untangle the situation quicker than Jacob thought would be possible.
This was good because he’d walked in to find Nina laughing with the good-looking Detective Moretti and offering coffee to little Lennie Jackson of all people, which meant that it was time for some serious meddling.
***
Nina
The men who had finalized my porch left, but Jacob stayed, and we had dinner with my daughters, who fell in love with him as immediately as I’d done. The girls didn’t stay for long and headed over to their father for the night before returning to their respective colleges, so we went back to my deck. It was comfortable to just sit there with a bottle of red between us, and I felt how I relaxed while we talked about anything from the patio furniture I’d ordered to how his elderly neighbor had passed away.
“So, Nina,” he said and twirled the wine around in his glass. “Have you reconsidered and started dating after all?”
“Nope,” I said happily.
&
nbsp; He chuckled and shook his head slowly.
“You had three handsome men spending their Saturday afternoon showing off by building a deck for you.”
“Yes, but they’re friends,” I murmured because they were that.
“Huh,” he grunted.
I was about to share that neither of them was interested in pursuing a relationship any more than I wanted it when he suddenly turned toward me and narrowed his eyes.
“What?” I asked, wondering why he looked at me so intently.
“You’re still unhappy at work?”
I blinked a few times in surprise. How the heck was that connected to my dating hiatus?
“Yes,” I answered slowly. “I've talked to a few friends and got an offer from another company, but I don't know...” I shrugged. “I'm not sure what I want to do. I like my job in many ways, but the routine is killing me. There are the usual quarterly book closes and the three-year plans, and we've just done another annual budget, which honestly is as unrealistic as the one we did last year. It's just the same thing over and over again.”
“You need a challenge.”
“Maybe,” I said and took a small sip of wine. “And some flexibility. I don’t mind working long hours when it’s needed, but I want more freedom.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I said with a sigh. “That’ll have to wait until I retire, I guess.”
He was quiet for a while, but then he straightened and put his glass down.
“You should work for me.”
I choked on some wine and started coughing furiously.
“What?” I wheezed out.
“I started a company when I was twenty-two.”
“I know,” I said because he’d talked about his business.
“It did well. Handed the reins over to Matty ten years ago, so he runs it now.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out.
Matthias was CEO of a company that had someone like Len Jackson as Vice President Supply Chain, which meant that it was a pretty big company and not the small local business I’d imagined.
“What?” I said when he kept looking at me.