Blossom Street (Books 1-10). Debbie Macomber
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sounding frustrated. “I was afraid of this. You’re worried about the age difference, aren’t you?”
“No—okay, a little, but that’s not the point. Much as I care about you, I don’t think our relationship is emotionally healthy.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
She didn’t want to repeat everything she’d already said. “Let’s stop relying on each other for a while. I’m not doing you any favors. You should be seeing other women, finding someone who can be everything to you.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” he argued. “You’re the one person who understood how I felt when Tiffany left me. We’re the injured parties, and it’s only natural that we’d have a lot in common. Now you’re saying we should walk away from all that.”
“I’m not explaining myself well.”
“Yes, you are. I’m getting the message loud and clear. You want us to stop seeing each other but I don’t understand why, especially now. It’s … it’s like before.”
“I’m not Tiffany!”
“Then why do I have this knot in my gut? Why do I feel the same things I did when she told me she was in love with another man? This is just another rejection.”
“No, it’s not.” She’d done a terrible job of conveying her feelings. “I want us to stay friends. I also want you to get out there and date someone else.”
“Why?” he demanded. “I like you.”
“I like you, too. But I think we should stop seeing each other for a while.”
She smiled and reached across the table to squeeze his hand. “You’re a wonderful man, Paul, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. But it’s time for us to let go a little. To explore relationships with other people.”
“This isn’t a rejection?” he asked sardonically. “It sure as hell sounds like one.”
“Being more independent doesn’t mean we can’t talk or give each other emotional support. I want us to have a healthy relationship. I want us to be real friends.” Bethanne glanced around the Denny’s, afraid their conversation was entertainment for half the restaurant. She leaned toward him. “I want you to date a wonderful woman who’s crazy about you.”
“I thought that was you.”
Bethanne sighed. “You don’t know how easy it would be to fall in love with you. I’m halfway there already.”
Her words obviously pleased him, as some of the intensity left his face. “What’s stopping you?”
“My conscience,” she told him. “I’m not the right woman for you.”
“Let me be the judge of that,” he said again, just as stubbornly.
“The thing is, there’s a corollary.”
He scowled, then slowly said, “In other words, I’m not the right man for you, either.”
She nodded. “I should’ve said something earlier, but I didn’t have the courage to let you go. Your friendship’s been really important to me.” She paused to take a deep breath. “I hope you’ll find a woman you’ll have children with. You’ll make a terrific father.” Both Andrew and Annie, who’d met him a number of times, thought the world of him.
“Fine, but I still plan to see you. And call you.” He would, too, especially at first, but when he opened his eyes to other relationships those calls would probably become farther apart. If that happened, it would be hard.
“You were absolutely wonderful for my self-esteem,” she told him, feeling almost tearful. “After Grant left, I was convinced no man would ever find me attractive again.”
“I did,” he said, then added softly, sweetly. “I do.”
“Thank you for that.”
“Will you see other men?” he asked. “Because I’m not going out into the great unknown all by myself.”
Bethanne managed a smile.
“I imagine that, given time, I will,” she said. “But I don’t think I’m ready just yet.” She’d take it slow, get on her feet financially, build her business. That was her first priority, aside from taking care of her children. One thing she’d learned through all of this was that she didn’t need a man in her life. After twenty years as Grant’s wife, she was finding her own identity. That might be a cliché these days, but like all clichés it was based in truth.
Part of that new identity was seeing herself as a businesswoman. Two days earlier, she’d been contacted by a friend of a friend who wanted to know if Bethanne did catering. She didn’t, but she knew someone who did. That conversation gave her an idea. Bethanne was good at organizing parties and social events. So far, all she’d booked were children’s birthday parties, but she wanted to expand, do more, connect with other professionals. The possibilities were endless and would be beneficial for all concerned. She might even end up becoming a wedding consultant. What was a wedding except one big party?
“I’ll date someone else if you will too,” Paul agreed after a lengthy silence.
That was all the assurance Bethanne needed. “I think that would be wise for us both.”
Like a youngster with an assignment, Paul propped his elbows on the table and said, “Any suggestions where to start?”
Bethanne smothered a giggle. “What about your office?”
He shook his head. “Everyone there’s already married.”
“I’ll bet someone you know has offered to set you up with a blind date.”
Paul dismissed that idea with a shake of his head. “No, thanks.”
Bethanne didn’t blame him. “I saw one of those decorator pillows once that read I’ve had so many blind dates I need a Seeing Eye dog.”
They both laughed, but Paul quickly sobered. “I don’t think I’m going to find anyone who can make me laugh the way you do.”
“Well, try,” she challenged, rather than allowing the compliment to sway her.
“What about you?” he asked. “When you decide you’re ready, where are you planning to meet single men? Clubs?”
“Oh, hardly,” she said, dismissing his comment with a wave of her hand. “I don’t have the shoes for it.” He laughed, as she’d wanted him to. “I’ll keep my eyes and ears open. Eventually I’ll meet someone, through a friend or my business or just by chance.”
“But you aren’t looking now?”
“No! Not yet.”
“Maybe you should.” His smile was infectious. He turned, craning his neck to take a good look around the restaurant.
“Paul! You’re being ridiculous.”
“Am I?” he teased. “What about that guy over there—the one with the baseball cap?”
“Paul, stop it,” she hissed, keeping her voice low. “Stop it right this minute. Unless you want me to introduce you to a couple of women.” Turnabout was fair play, so she caught their waitress’s eye. The young woman picked up a coffeepot and brought it over to their table. Her badge said her name was Cindy.
“Hello, Cindy,” Bethanne said warmly. “This is Paul. He’s single and available.”
Cindy smiled shyly in Paul’s direction and added a quarter inch of coffee to their mugs.
“Would you be interested in dating a man like Paul?” Bethanne asked.
“Ah, sure.”
Cindy had proven