A Girl Like You Read online

  “Ohh, that looks great,” Nadine said, leaning over to look. “What does it mean?”

  “I have no idea!”

  Across the table, Gigi gave a dramatic sigh and put down her chalk. “All right, let’s see what you’ve come up with.”

  She looked closely at my drawing, then at me, then at Nadine. We were both too intimidated to laugh.

  “This is marvelous work, very intuitive,” Gigi said, running her fingers around the edges of the paper. “You’ve told quite a story about Nadine.”

  “I have?”

  Even Gigi’s daughter got up and came over to look, showing interest for the first time that night.

  “Have her translate it for you,” Brenda said, slipping off her earbuds.

  “Well,” Gigi said, clasping her hands over her heart. “The dark purple represents an energy blockage, restricting your spiritual connections. But the deep red here is strength, showing you’re a survivor. This green shows a change coming, or some new growth. Excellent work, Jessica!”

  “Cool,” Brenda said.

  It was my turn to blush.

  “What about that brown in the corner?” Eddie asked.

  “That, my dear, is all the crap she has been through,” Gigi said.

  “All of that’s true, for sure,” Nadine said, brushing her hair away from her face.” I just separated from my husband and it’s unbelievably hard.”

  “I understand,” I said.

  “The worst part is it’s been really rough on our son Tristan,” Nadine said, looking down at her hands. But we’re still a family, and who knows what the future will bring, right?”

  “Right!”

  “But can’t just stand still—gotta gather my wits about me and forge on,” she said, rubbing her palms on her jeans, then looking up and smiling. “Didn’t kill me, so I must be stronger.”

  “Can I take this home?” Nadine asked, pointing to the drawing.

  “It’s all yours,” I said, helping her roll it up.

  Gigi’s drawing of Eddie’s aura was all swirls of yellow and gold. “Edward and I are very psychically attuned,” she raved. “We’re both lovers of exquisite beauty and have deep artistic abilities. Gold auras mean we have many friends and admirers.”

  She had gotten right to the very core of him.

  “Do you have any hidden jewelry?” Gigi asked, putting her hand on Eddie’s chest. “Yellow aura people like to adorn themselves.”

  Eddie took a step backwards and was, for once, utterly speechless.

  “He’s married,” I blurted out. “Just doesn’t wear a ring. But boy, is he ever married!”

  “I thought he looked married,” Nadine added.

  Brenda laughed so hard she had to bend over to catch her breath.

  “That’s enough from you, missy,” Gigi said. “You know your aura darkens when you sass your mother.”

  Brenda plugged back in and started cleaning up the chalk table.

  “You didn’t have your turn, Jess,” Eddie said.

  “It’s fine. I think I know my colors.”

  “You have that little pile of shit too?” Nadine said.

  “Oh, I’ve got that.”

  Before we left, Nadine and I exchanged cell numbers. Gigi actually offered her number to Eddie, but he pretended not to hear her.

  “Well, Edward,” I said in the overly lit parking lot. “Aren’t you something, man with the golden aura.”

  “You too, chicky. Who knew you were psychic?”

  “Not me, that’s for sure.”

  “Sorry you never had your aura drawn,” Eddie said.

  “Eh, I don’t care.”

  “Tell you what—order some colored chalk on your favorite shopping site and we’ll do it with the kids.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  60

  The next weekend, I called Madison.

  “Are you ready for this week’s rundown?”

  “Hold on, let me get a drink.”

  “It’s four o’clock in the afternoon!”

  “It’s freaking iced tea, Mom!”

  “You know I hate it when you curse,” I said. “Well, by far my best date in a month was with my new friend Nadine from the aura class.”

  “Cool. Maybe you can go lesbo and have a happy life together.”

  “Madison!”

  “Every day you tell me the guys from Tinder are a mess, but there must be some good ones out there,” Maddy said, sipping audibly. “Otherwise we’d stop doing it, right?”

  “I think we’ve all just lost our minds. At least, my matches on Fish seem to have.”

  “OK, let’s hear it.”

  “Well, there’s the guy, TaurusBull, who wants to call me his sister during sex and say, ‘I hope Dad doesn’t catch us.’”

  “Oh, God, Mom, tell me you didn’t—”

  “Of course I did not; what are you thinking? He told me this ahead of time, you know, like a script.”

  “Sweet Jesus.”

  “And some other guy wanted to know if I wore silk or lace panties!”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “Cotton.”

  “Oh, Mombo. Well, at least you were honest. Did you hear back from him?”

  “Never. Then there’s a man, StraightArrow, whose hobbies include knife-throwing.”

  I heard Madison start to choke into her cell. “Are you kidding me? Geez, if he wants to throw something sharp, why not try darts?”

  “Good suggestion. Do you want his number?”

  “I mean, is that his job, like knife-thrower in a circus? Sideshow act? Or is he just an amateur thrower?”

  “Maddy, I didn’t interview him. I unmatched him in like two seconds.”

  Madison’s choking dissolved into giggles. “Tell me more, Mom. You can’t make this shit up.”

  “Well, there’s the green-eyed, 6’3” musician, LuvNotes, who told me right off the bat he doesn’t drive, because he had to sell his Subaru to get his guitar fixed.”

  “Oooh, Subarus are nice,” Madd said.

  “Can you stay focused, please?” I nudged Penny with my foot, then felt bad, so I bent down to scratch her ears. “I asked him how he gets to work, and he says he was mugged and the robbers hurt his shoulder, so he lost his job.”

  “Oh, that’s so sad! But, hey, if his shoulder is hurt, how does he hold his guitar?”

  “EXACTLY!” I yelled into my phone. “My question, exactly. I’ve hit rock bottom. Fish sucks, man.”

  “Maybe you should widen your search area,” she said kindly to her old, lonely mother.

  How far out are you going?”

  “I think up to 60 miles away.”

  “Go 90. If he’s worth it, he’ll drive to see you.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe—if he has a car.”

  We both went quiet.

  “How’s Billy?”

  “He’s amazing,” Madison said. “We’re taking a ride up to Lake Placid next weekend.”

  “That’s so great! I’m happy for you.”

  “Yeah, so guess I’m proving Ian wrong about the whole having sex too early thing.”

  “It’s always good to put Ian in his place,” I said.

  “K. Text me later.”

  “Love you.”

  “Love you too, Mombo.”

  61

  “We have a lot in common, AriesGurl,” messaged YourRomeo. “We both have small dogs and drink tea and don’t watch TV. If you’re interested in talking, you can reply anytime. I’ll be around.”

  Hmm. It was the politest message I’d received. I quickly scrolled through his pics. One was a distant pic of him in front of what looked like an adobe hut. Another was of him holding a newborn, pride written all over his face. The last was of trees on a hiking path in spring.

  So he was a hiker—so what? Most of the guys were.

  I deliberated for a couple of minutes about ordering hiking boots on Amazon and trying to break them in and dirty them up before any kind of outdoor date. Too
much work, I decided immediately.

  I messaged Romeo back after waiting a few hours to downplay my interest. He was fifty-seven, had three sons, the one granddaughter, and a little terrier named Chloe. He was a fitness buff, and owned a company that designed and built custom staircases. His name was Hudson. He lived about ten minutes from me.

  “I keep myself healthy—no fast food or Cheetos for me—and always end up hanging out with younger people,” he messaged. “People say I’m youthful and don’t look or act my age.”

  Why was he making such a big deal about being young at heart?

  Shit. I had registered for Fish as a 49-year old. That posed a serious problem, but I put off figuring that one out so I could ride the high of getting to know Hudson. I liked his genuine, personable messages. Maybe he was put in my path because he lived so close to me. Maybe I would read his aura and it would be all gold and yellow. Maybe we would travel to New Mexico and take selfies by an adobe hut.

  Over the next four days, Hudson and I were in constant contact, through the site, then texting, then talking by phone. He’d been divorced fourteen years and dating ever since.

  “Just haven’t met The One,” he texted. “But I won’t settle. I’ll keep looking till I find her.”

  Being the boss hadn’t been easy, he told me. One office manager, Shelley, had so much trouble doing her job that Hudson basically did it for her.

  “Why did you keep her?”

  “She was really nice, she walked Chloe, and she made this really great carrot cake every week for us.”

  Hudson made me laugh the way I did with my kids.

  He was passionate about his work, especially custom jobs using wood other than ordinary oak. He loved mahogany and cypress on curved railings with fancy newel posts.

  “We did an open spiral staircase this week,” he texted, and I could almost hear the excitement behind his words. “Gorgeous, curved railings, inlaid box newel posts, you name it.”

  “Did it look like ‘Stairway to Heaven?’”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Guess you hear that joke all the time,” I texted.

  “Yeah, but that’s OK, Jess.”

  We made a date for dinner Wednesday. Hudson said he would pick me up at my house after work.

  “He’s picking you up here?” Madison said incredulously. “You never give a guy your address, much less get into his car!”

  “Relax. We’ve been talking for a week. I know where his stair company is, the names of his kids, what kind of chow his dog Chloe eats—”

  “OK, OK, but give me his cell number just in case.”

  “Fine,” I said, writing it down and handing it to her.

  “Don’t go casual,” Maddy advised as I was pulling on mummy leggings. “Wear your black skirt and that red blouse with the buttons. And for god’s sake, go a little crazy and leave the top two open.”

  I would have felt more at ease with the Halloween leggings, but she knew things about dating etiquette that I did not. Red blouse it was.

  Hudson texted me ten minutes before his arrival.

  “I’m on my way. It’s not too late to run.”

  I couldn’t get my breath fresh enough, so I brought toothpaste into the kitchen and scrubbed my teeth with my fingers. When he pulled into our driveway in a really clean red Jeep, I dabbed toothpaste on my tongue, which made my breath overly fresh.

  I peeked out the front door when he got to my porch.

  Hudson looked even better than his photos. He seemed very young, with a full head of sandy-colored hair, bright blue eyes with those dark rings around the irises, and broken-in straight-leg jeans. He smiled through the window even before I opened the door to usher him in.

  Penny immediately bounded to him, tail wagging furiously. Hudson got on his knees to rub her neck. Then he stood up and leaned in to kiss me.

  I kissed him right back, standing there in my kitchen.

  “You taste good,” he said, brushing my hair off my shoulder.

  “Just brushed my teeth,” I said, feeling foolish. What kind of ice-breaker was that?

  We hurried down the porch in the winter wind. Hudson opened the Jeep door for me as I attempted to climb in gracefully, wearing a fitted skirt.

  “Is it warm enough in here for you?” Hudson said, sounding worried.

  “It’s great.”

  Hudson drove to one of those ridiculously romantic restaurants with votive candles on glass-top tables and a brick fireplace with orange and blue flames. We rushed in from the cold.

  He came over to pull out my chair and I pretended I’d known he was going to, even though it was the first time in my life any man had done that. The server had placed a menu in front of a seat across the table, but Hudson slid into the chair directly next to mine.

  “I don’t want to be too far away from you,” he said, briefly squeezing my hand, which I prayed wasn’t sweaty.

  Over shrimp scampi, light on the garlic, I told Hudson about Madison and Ian and their dating experiences, and he told me about his family. Two of his sons were single, the oldest married with the new baby.

  “She’s incredible,” he said about baby Emma. “Every time I see her, she’s a new person.”

  “Do you see her a lot?”

  “Not as much as I’d like, but I’m hoping to get babysitting duty when she’s a bit older,” he said, smiling.

  I cleared my throat. “Speaking of a bit older, I’m, well I’m actually a couple years older than I listed on my profile.”

  Hudson wiped his mouth with his cloth napkin.

  “OK. How much older?”

  “Ah, eight years.”

  “OK. So that makes you—”

  “Fifty-seven,” I said, my face burning.

  “Huh.”

  I drank a sip of my water, waiting.

  “All right,” he said at last. “Anything else you want to tell me?”

  “I sometimes eat Cheetos,” I blurted out.

  Thankfully, he laughed. The awful moment was over. “So, do you like this restaurant?”

  “I love it,” I said, and he slid his hand over to squeeze mine.

  Our server stayed discreetly away from our table except to refill our Pinot Grigio.

  I’d promised Madison I would text from the ladies’ room, but couldn’t bear to leave the table and miss a chance that he might hold my hand again. Two hours later, we walked through the dark parking lot to his Jeep. Hudson opened the door for me. I got in ungracefully and reflexively put on my seatbelt.

  Hudson got in the driver’s side, started up the engine. and turned on the heat. Then, smiling, he reached over decisively to unclasp my seatbelt and pull me to him. His kisses were maddeningly slow, making me lean into him as if I’d never been kissed in a Jeep before after three glasses of Pinot. OK, so I hadn’t. Then he turned his face, angling his mouth firmly on mine, and I pressed hard against him. My hands found their way into his wild swath of hair—no sticky products, so the waves were natural. YAY!

  Hudson gathered up a handful of my hair, pulling it gently to expose my neck, which he covered with kisses, nibbling at my skin. I felt a moan forming in my throat, but managed to turn it into a sigh at the last minute. He toyed with the edge of my skirt, and I fought the urge to open my knees. I also fought the need to pee, wishing frantically I’d made that trip to the restaurant bathroom. The top buttons on his polo shirt were open just enough for me to slide in one hand and brush his chest with my fingers.

  “I don’t have sex on the first date,” I said, breathing in the clean smell of his neck.

  “Neither do I,” he laughed. “And I don’t have sex in cars, either.”

  “Or in parking lots.”

  “Agreed,” he said, kissing me again.

  But when he gently pushed my legs open and slipped fingers inside my panties to my very wet place, I rethought that rule and considered asking him back to my house. His teasing fingers didn’t stay in me long enough. It would be a vibrator night when I got hom
e.

  62

  Two days later, Friday night, Hudson picked me up at my house in an equally clean red Ford truck.

  “I missed you,” he said, pulling me into his arms and kissing me, even though it had only been 48 hours. We drove silently the ten minutes to his house. I tried not to fidget.

  When we turned left onto his property, I sat up straight in disbelief. It was incredible. He had a restored farmhouse on grassy fields as far as I could see. There was an orange plow at the end of the winding driveway, and a shed that exactly matched the house. Parked behind it was a tractor.

  His little terrier Chloe sprang up to greet us when we went in Hudson’s house. I openly gaped at the enormous kitchen, spotlessly clean, the high ceiling over the living room with its stone fireplace, the cherrywood end tables and curved couch that looked like tapestry. Even the travel magazines on his coffee table were fanned out to perfection. There were two graceful elephants carved out of some kind of fancy wood standing in one corner, and a waist-high sculpture of a seashell in the entry to the kitchen.

  “Sorry if it’s a mess,” Hudson said, plumping a gold-tasseled pillow.

  Through another set of archways, I could see a cozy den with another fireplace. On the far wall was a formal oil painting of Chloe, looking very regal, especially for a dog. I tried to guess in my mind the cost of a portrait that size and came up blank. Hmm. But no family photos?

  The only thing that made the room look remotely lived-in was a fleece blanket on the black leather chair, but a moment later, Chloe took a running jump and settled herself into the blanket.

  “Her chair,” Hudson explained.

  I thought about my kitchen table littered with a few days’ worth of mail, coupons, an old soup can filled with pencils, spare change, the empty paper towel holder, and maybe even Penny’s leash. There were no carved shells in the entryway and my kitchen had counters—not an island. I still had candid photos of the kids on my walls; Adam’s talent for photography had become a lifelong hobby. None of us had portraits done.