“No,” he said, smiling at her, “I'm fine. I've made my peace with things.” Paris had a mouthful of pizza when he said it, and she looked up and just stared at him. “Don't you think? I've pretty much accepted Phyllis's death.”
“You're the best judge of how you feel,” she said politely, and then talked about the film they'd seen again, to keep the subject light.
And that night, when he took her home, he surprised her by kissing her tenderly on the front steps. She was surprised by what a passionate man he was, and she melted toward him when they kissed. He was either lonelier than even she thought, or the old adage was in fact true that still waters run deep. But he was far more sexual than she had thought, and she could feel as he held her close to him that he was aroused, which was a hopeful sign. At least Phyllis hadn't taken that with her too.
“You're a beautiful woman, Paris,” he said gruffly. “I'm hungry for you… but I don't want to do anything we'll both regret. I know how you felt about your husband, and I…I haven't been with anyone since my wife …” She had suspected as much, and she didn't want to tell him that she'd already had one affair since Peter left. She didn't want to seem like a slut. But both her psyche and the rest of her machinery seemed to be working fine. She wasn't sure about his. Intense grief did strange things. And as he himself admitted, he had been depressed for two years. Men, and their elaborate inner works, were fragile beings. She didn't want to frighten him.
“We're in no rush,” she said in a soothing tone, and he kissed her again before he left. She thought it was a hopeful sign, and she was beginning to like him better and better. She liked what he stood for, and how he felt about his children, he had a lot of integrity, and a good heart. If they could just get Phyllis out of the way, maybe everything would be fine. But thus far, she seemed reluctant to leave. Or rather, Jim was reluctant to let her go. He was still hanging on tight. Though maybe, judging by the kiss he and Paris had exchanged, not quite as tight.
For the next several weeks, they continued to see each other, go to movies, and dinner. They even cooked dinner at her house, which Paris thought was easier for him. There were no memories of Phyllis there, and no hat hanging in the kitchen. There was just Paris. And things got rather heated between them late one night when they were first sitting, and then lying on the couch. It was early August by then. And she had put on a stack of CDs he liked. He seemed happy with her, happier than he'd been in a long time. But in the end they decided not to pursue their physical relationship any further that night.
Bix checked in with her later that week. “Are you still a virgin, or has it happened yet?”
“Don't be so nosy.” She felt protective of Jim, and was beginning to have stronger feelings for him. As they got to know each other better, she could even imagine falling in love with him. And it was a definite selling point that he was also a very sensual man. His senses had just been asleep for a long time.
“Are you falling for him?” Bix was intrigued.
“Maybe,” she said cryptically. “I think I could, with time.”
“That's pretty neat.” He looked pleased for her. And Meg was pleased too. She could tell from her mother's voice when she called that good things were happening. Sally had had the baby by then, and the two girls had talked and agreed that things were looking good. Sally said her father was crazy about Meg's mother, and couldn't stop talking about how beautiful she was. And if he wasn't in love yet, he had a major crush. And so did Paris, although she was keeping it quiet. But she liked everything he stood for.
And by mid-August, Meg had her own news, which she had been keeping under her hat. She had met someone over the Fourth of July weekend, and they had been seeing each other for five weeks. But she wasn't sure how her mother would feel about it. She was afraid she wouldn't like it. He was considerably older than Meg was, and a year older than her mother.
“What's he like?” Paris asked benevolently. Meg had not yet mentioned his age to her. She hadn't said anything about him for a month until she was sure they were at least minimally compatible with each other. He was a major departure for her.
“Nice, Mom. Very, very, very nice. He's an entertainment lawyer. A big one. He represents some pretty major stars.” And Meg had already met several of them, as she told her mother.
“How did you meet him?”
