The sun begins to rise, bruising the historical town in bluish-orange hues. Dom unfastens his seat belt and turns to me. “Thanks for the company. And the burger.”

“First doughnuts, now a burger. Perhaps my calling in life is to feed you.” I wink, trying to keep it light. “Hope you feel better today.”

“Even if I don’t, I have two fitness classes to attend, and my brother said he wants me to come over for a few beers and to watch the game. At the very least, I’ll have a distraction.”

I reach to squeeze his hand. I don’t want to let go, but I don’t want anything romantic with Dom either. I just want us to coexist in the same sphere. To be there for each other. I’ve missed having someone who listens. So I brave the rejection this time. I put myself out there, so to speak.

“Hey, Dom, do you want to maybe . . . exchange numbers? I would really like to be your friend.”

Dom smiles, squeezing my hand back. “Thank you for the offer, Lynne, but I can’t be your friend. I’d be constantly pining for you, and that would be a very miserable existence indeed.”

And then, before I can say anything more, before I can tell him Nora is going to kill me if I tell her we met again and I didn’t get his number, he reaches over, kisses my cheek softly, and leaves.

SIX

Two weeks pass.

I never tell Nora I ran into Dom at the gas station. I have a feeling this would just inspire another you-have-to-get-over-Joe conversation. As it turns out, Nora doesn’t need Dom as an excuse. One day, when we are perched on a picnic blanket at the park, a semicute guy glances my way. He is reading a book. A book I happen to like a lot. Infinite Jest, by David Foster Wallace.

“You should go over there and talk to him,” Nora urges, rolling from her back to her stomach, thirstily drinking in the measly rays of sunshine slipping through the fat clouds.

“That’s a hard no.” I bury my face in my own paperback—Stephen King’s newest.

“Why? Because of Joe?” She pushes her sunglasses up her nose.

“No,” I say, but the real answer is among other reasons. “Because I’m not that person who goes up to a guy and asks for his number.”

“Do you need to be a certain type of girl to do that?” Nora blinks. “It’s always a risk to ask someone out. Do you think your feelings are more precious than those of a girl who would ask this guy out?”

“I’m not saying that at all. Kudos to girls who have the guts to hit on men. I think they make the world a better place. But in the risk-management hierarchy, I scale pretty low. I’m not a risk-taker. I don’t . . . I don’t put myself out there.” I use Pippa’s words. It makes me miss her again. I wonder if one day I’ll stop missing her like she was a part of my body. I wish for that day, but I also dread it.