I shake my head no, and I mean it. Sure, Smith is still hot and, by all accounts, the same kind man I once loved, but there weren’t any sparks flying between us in that van. And when I saw my old ring, it didn’t make me miss him. If anything, it made me miss Fiona a little more, which was a problem in our marriage. I loved being a part of Smith’s family more than I loved being his wife.
“No,” I say. “Why?”
“Well.” He leans in close, his lips just centimeters away from mine. “Because I think I’d like to kiss you right now.”
“I think I’d like that too.”
He presses his lips to mine and we kiss. Softly, but without hesitation. He glides his fingers through my curls, cupping my neck in his hand, and melting every one of my sharp edges. It’s been a long time since I’ve been kissed like this, by someone I barely know. Even longer since I’ve let my guard down long enough for someone to see me so vulnerable.
I’m the first to pull away, and immediately I regret it. My body aches for more of him. His lips feel like fresh air in my lungs. His embrace like shelter from the cold sea air. The sensible thing to do would be to put on the brakes. Stop ourselves from further complicating things. But being sensible is overrated.
Martin brushes a curl away from my face. “Do you kiss all of your fake boyfriends on the first date?”
“I do,” I say. “You should see what I do on the second fake date. Full-on praying mantis.”
“You are an alien.” He shivers. “Do you think we could be done with the wallowing portion of the evening?”
I suddenly realize that I’m not nearly as annoyed as I was before kissing Martin. Had I known sucking face with a gorgeous man was all it took to snap me out of a bad mood, I could’ve saved so much money on therapy.
“Sure,” I say. “But fair warning, when we go back inside that house, we’re going to have to watch The Bachelorette with Nana Rosie. There’s no escaping it.”
“Is that so?”
“Look, I can get you out of golf, but Nana’s watch parties are like jury duty. She talks through most of the episode, and my mother asks a million questions because she can’t ever seem to remember anything about the show. Phoebe always has a thousand opinions, and that means you’re going to have to have at least half as many opinions, otherwise they’ll think you’re weak. You’ll probably have a terrible time.”
“Are you trying to scare me? I have four sisters. I’m an OG Bachelorette viewer. I’m talking Trista and Ryan.”
“Those names mean virtually nothing to me.”
“Then prepare to be impressed, Banks. Prepare to be impressed.”
We make it back home in time for my family to forget that anything unpleasant happened over drinks. Marie’s left out sandwiches, but it looks like everybody’s already eaten. I’m not all that hungry anyway. Martin and I change into our pajamas—in our own separate rooms—and I send a quick update to the Smut Coven about the night’s turn of events.
Chelsey: You kissed Knot Guy? My Thanksgiving is the worst compared to yours.
Jackie: Speak for yourself. I just had to watch my mother fist a turkey.
Penny: I mean it’s not all kisses and sunshine. My dad and I had a small flare up during drinks.
Chelsey: Over the bookstore?
Penny: No. I’ll fill you guys in tomorrow.
Jackie: When are you planning on talking to your dad about it?
A wave of guilt washes over me. The focus of this trip is supposed to be the bookstore. I can’t let Smith or Martin distract me, and I definitely can’t keep picking petty fights with my father the whole weekend.
Penny: Soon. I promise.
The episode has just started when I finally make it into the living room, and to my relief Martin isn’t here yet. He must still be changing, or he’s chickened out entirely. Either way, I take my usual seat in the leather recliner in the corner, which means that if and when Martin does join the viewing party, he’ll be stuck sitting with Phoebe and Falon on the couch.
“Explain how this works again.” My mother reaches into the bowl of freshly popped popcorn. “How does one woman date all those men in an hour? Less with commercials, if you think about it.”
“She doesn’t date all of them, Silvia,” Nana Rosie groans. “The goal of the first episode is for her to mingle with the guys to see who she connects with and then trim the fat. It’s an incredibly efficient process.”
“I can’t believe I’m watching this again.” Phoebe sighs from the end of the leather sectional. “Correction. I can’t believe I’m watching this without a drink in my hand. Nana, why can’t we watch something normal?”