She knew just where he would lead her if she took his hand. He straightened up and extended his hand, an invitation. He bent down and kissed her again, this time as tentative as before. She could hear the smile in his voice without even looking at him. The scene played out in her mind like one from Sex and the City, and she remembered Everett’s words. When those girlfriends asked, “How’d you ever get through it?” she’d tell them about finding hidden money and eating McDonald’s and living with her parents and seeking consolation in the arms of someone else who’d also been left. They would titter over her admission, raise their glasses in a toast to strong women. And this night-this man-would be just a fun blip, a funny little confession for the girlfriends she’d have in the future about the night she behaved badly. She would most likely start over there and leave this neighborhood behind just like she’d left it before. Last week she’d talked to an old friend from college who had her own all-female law practice in Virginia and could hire her to do admin stuff. She had seconds to come to her senses, to talk herself out of whatever came next. She nodded, and he sprang up like a released coil, trotting away and up the stairs.
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