“Guy,” Anne repeats. “Kai Guy. That sounds promising.”

I roll my eyes and grip the menu tighter. “Okay, you want promising? He’s thirty. Tattooed. A surfer. And we had three days of unbelievable sex. How’s that?”

For a moment there’s just dead silence, and then Kris starts laughing. “You’re serious,” she says. I nod. Grinning, Kris stretches a hand across the table to high-five me. “Good for you, Jackie. ’Bout time you had some fun.”

My palm smacks hers, and Anne and Nic are smiling, but I see ambiguity in Nic’s expression.

“What?” I demand, looking at her.

“Nothing.”

“Come on. Say it. I can tell you’re not happy about something.”

Her lips purse primly. “You had sex with a stranger.”

Oh God. “Yes.”

“You did use protection, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Was it good?” Anne is leaning forward. “Really good?”

My smile is back, and it trembles on my lips, exuberant and innocent. I know why people write poems and songs about falling in love, because there’s something magical that happens, something all fresh and shiny and new about the beginnings of love, even if this is more infatuation than love. But the hope one feels, the hope I feel, is almost unbearable, so big and full, round like a giant balloon or a miniature sun. I wish I could feel this way all the time. For the first time in years, I think I could do anything.

“The sex was great, but it was more than that.” I look at them, try to make them understand. “He was great. He was…” I drift off, bite my lip. “Amazing. Gorgeous. Smart. Funny. Young.” I blush, wrinkle my nose. “But so gorgeous. And he liked me.”

“What’s not to like, Jack?” Kris counters. “You’re beautiful and smart, successful.”

“But you should have seen him. He looked…” And my voice fades away because it wasn’t just his looks, it was the way he was with me and the way he made me feel—especially the way he made me feel about myself—and I didn’t think a man could do that, not after the years of criticism from Daniel. Not after the years of criticism from myself. Those few days with Kai made me think things would actually be okay again someday, that my life wasn’t over and the adventures were only just beginning. “With him I didn’t feel like a mom, or forty, or Daniel’s ex-wife. I just felt like me, only better.”

“You couldn’t get any better,” Nic says stoutly.

“I could,” I say. “I could be happier.” I hesitate. “I will be happier.”

“Good.” Kris raises her water glass. “Let’s drink to that.”