“I’m loving it already.”

Okay, Marissa thought, as they companionably consumed their meals, there will be no meaningless getting-over-Linda sex for me tonight. Not that she had seriously thought there would be. She’d had very little meaningful sex in her life but what there had been she’d downright enjoyed. She wanted what she’d felt with Linda— but not with Linda she thought hastily. Maybe she wasn’t as over Linda as she had thought and maybe she had no business dating Eve or anyone else. Was that why she’d never followed up with Cicely and Wyndy? Had they also sensed that Chabot, Marissa wasn’t ready-for-prime-time dating?

“Hey, Mom.”

“Don’t tell me you’re calling to cancel the salon appointment on Saturday morning.”

“Okay, I won’t tell you that, because that’s not why I called. Do you think I have some kind of relationship death wish?” Marissa veered around a speed bump then turned out of the megaplex parking lot.

Her mother laughed into the phone. “Are you asking me how to stop hanging onto a bad thing so you can take advantage of a good thing that comes along?”

“I suppose I could ask someone else but you’re the only person I’ve told about the Tahiti situation, though I’m not sure at all why I told you.”

“It was Christmas and you’d had that extra glass of red wine. Besides, I’m your mother and you tell me everything.”

They snorted in stereo at that idea. “Yeah right. Anyway, this woman tonight seemed very nice. But as soon as I started thinking about U-Hauls the flashing neon lights went off.”

“Then you’re not ready. I’m not so sure it’s pathological though.”

Marissa turned onto the freeway ramp and accelerated toward home. “Oh, I don’t know. I had a crush on Octavia for years. It was a good shield against having to even try to date anyone. Besides— hang on, I need to merge.”

After a lane change, Marissa continued, “Besides, Linda turned up this morning. Alive and well and she said she wanted me.”

“Oh, please. After a year?”

“Yeah, I know. I know.”

“The nerve.”

“She looked really good. Every time I see her or a photograph I realize I’ve forgotten how drop-dead gorgeous she is. It’s like I never see that. I see something else, but I don’t know what.”

“Please be careful.”

“I’m not going to see her again.”

“Oh, of course you are. If nothing else you’re curious.”

“My heart’s still got duct tape marks.”

“Just be careful.”

“You can bet on that.”

The words rang in her head as she climbed the stairs to her apartment. The sunshine earlier in the day had given way to a chillier front that threatened rain. There were no flowers on the doorstep, no letters in the mailbox, no messages blinking on the answering machine. She ignored the brown-wrapped package Linda had given her that morning—it already seemed ages ago— as she made herself some green tea and sat down to check her e-mail.