I felt a stir of oily black anger.

“Kate?”

“Hey.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Work.”

“Oh.” She set down her gorgeous leather bag. “Um, can I sit for a minute?”

I didn’t want her to, but I shrugged. She sat.

“So. How are you?”

Well, my husband died, and I seem to be having heart attacks every other day or so, and thank God my sister got dumped and moved in with me, because I’m so sad my bones hurt, Paige. They actually hurt. “I’m fine.”

What was it about female friendships? Why was it so crushing when they failed?

“Look,” she said, and her tone was a little impatient. “I’ve been wanting to call you, but I really didn’t know what to say. But you’re good?”

“Fine.”

I guess she could read something in my face. “Well, you’re here, having dinner with a friend, I guess. That’s a step in the right direction. It’s good. You should get out, see people.”

“I appreciate your input.”

She took the veiled insult.

I’d talked to Nathan quite a bit about Paige after she dumped me. His take was that I was better off without her. Men never could understand women and their friends.

But I was a little obsessed. Who dumps a friend because that friend is happy? Though I did it on the sly, I checked her Facebook page, her Twitter, looked at her Pinterest board. She had one for wedding dresses, for God’s sake, and it was public and under her real name. If there was a better way to scare off a potential boyfriend, I didn’t know what it was.

She’d been my closest friend, and I didn’t make friends easily. My very best friend, and all she could manage was to write her name at the bottom of a shitty card from Duane Reade.

“So you’re just going to sit there and judge me?” she said.

“Pretty much, yes.”

“Hey, Paige.” Daniel returned, shoving his phone into his jeans pocket.

Her mouth fell open and her eyes widened. “Really? Daniel?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Hi. How are you?” He sat down. “You joining us?”

“No,” she said. “Wow, Kate. You’re doing much better. Better than I would’ve thought.”

That oily black anger bubbled, hot and sticky.

“Paige, don’t be such a bitch,” Daniel said easily. “She took some pictures of my sister as a favor. It’s dinnertime. We’re eating, not getting married, and how about a little compassion for your friend? Her husband died, in case you forgot.”

Damn. That was perfect.

“Who can forget?” She stood up. “You two have a nice dinner.”

She left. My cheeks were hot with all the things I didn’t say. The wine went down faster now.

“You okay?” Daniel asked.

“Yep. Fine.”

“Why would you say fine? She’s a pill. It’s okay to admit it.”

“We were friends for years.”

“I know.” There were those kind eyes again.

“So what’s going on with you these days, Daniel? Got a girlfriend?”

“Nah. Not really. You know me.” I smiled. “Family’s good. Well, not really. My sister Jane, you know her?”

“No.” I’d never met any of Daniel’s family until today.

“Well, her husband left her. And she’s seven months pregnant.”

“Good God.”

“Yeah. So I’ve been helping her out. She’s got three other kids. My other sister has six.”

“Nice. I have two nieces and a nephew myself. The baby’s only three.”

“Great age.” He smiled.

We ordered, eggplant parm for me. He got steak (such a cliché) and a side of pasta, and a Caesar salad, too, and ate four pieces of garlic bread. Hungry lad.

He told me about work, brushing off the danger, sadness and fear that his job must entail, as was the way of every firefighter I’d ever met. I told him about Ainsley coming to stay with me, though not why, as well as some of the lesser challenges I faced as a widow: not understanding the complexities of Nathan’s light switches, and having to jazz-hand in the bathroom, and eating under what seemed like an interrogation light because I couldn’t figure out the dimmer switch in the kitchen.

We’d never really talked before, other than a few hey, how’s it going conversations. Once in a while, we’d run into each other while teaching the ex-cons. Otherwise, no.

This was nice. Daniel laughed in the right places, kindly.

There was that word again.

He paid for dinner, and I realized with a little shock that it was past eight.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” he said.

“No, it’s fine. This is my old turf.”

“I’ll walk you, Kate.”

“Okay. Thank you, Daniel the Hot Firefighter. And thank you for dinner.”

We headed down the street, Daniel carrying my camera bag and reflector over one shoulder. The lights from the town houses glowed warm and little bits of music threaded through the air, but it was quiet, as Park Slope tended to be. Prospect Park was quiet, too. You’d never know you were in the city.

It was getting cold, and I shivered a little. Without a word, Daniel put his arm around me.

I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, he was just Daniel the Hot Firefighter. On the other, he was Daniel the Hot Firefighter. He smelled good, a combination of soap and a little sweat and garlic.

I wasn’t cold anymore. There was that, too.

When we got to my car, I stashed my bags in the trunk. “Thank you,” I said. “This was an unexpectedly nice day.”

“Well, thank you for doing this for Lizzie. She’s already texted me six times about how great you are.”

I smiled.

“Kate...” He shifted his weight and crossed his arms. “My sister Jane? The one who’s pregnant?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, she lives in Tarrytown.” It was the town south of Cambry-on-Hudson. “Maybe when I go up there, we could grab a beer sometime.”

I hesitated.

“As friends,” he added.

“That would be really nice,” I said, a wave of relief washing over me. I liked Daniel. I always had. Just not that way. And obviously, I didn’t want to date anyone.

“Good. I have your number. From your website. I’ll call you sometime.”

“Have a good night, Daniel. Be safe.”

He winked at me, back to Daniel the Hot Firefighter, Conqueror of Vaginas, and headed off.

I took the long way home, opting to cross the East River via the Brooklyn Bridge and go up the West Side Highway, since it was more beautiful that way. I’d driven this route many times, back when Nathan and I were dating.

For a cruel, beautiful instant, I forgot he was dead. I imagined telling him about Lizzie and Daniel and seeing Paige, imagined him waiting for me, his sweet, shy smile, his good clean smell.

The image was so powerful that I didn’t realize the light had changed, and horns were blaring behind me.

Chapter Fifteen

Ainsley

In the past week, Eric was on TV four times.

It seemed that dumping your girlfriend after “surviving a horrific battle with cancer” played well in Peoria. Good Morning America, The Doctors, Live with Kelly (and I loved her, damn it!) and Jimmy Kimmel Live!. I DVR’ed them all. Of course I did, and watched it in Kate’s media room one night when she was asleep, furiously eating popcorn, weeping, yelling at the TV and nearly choking at least twice.