Page 22 of One More Chance

Jensen pulls out long metal spears and a pack of hot dogs. He lays out buns, condiments, potato salad, and chips.

“When did you even have time to pack all this or shop or whatever you needed to do?” I ask.

“I told you, I had help.” He winks at me.

Okay, yep. We’re going to have to talk about the winking.He shouldn’t be doing that.

He strikes a match against the package and throws it in, the flames starting to flicker higher and higher until we’ve got ourselves a decent sized fire. Then he hands me a beer and my spear, a hot dog already jammed on the end.

As we sit and roast hot dogs, I take a few sips of the beer. The sun is lower in the sky and I realize this is actually really nice. Hell, maybe if I had been able to convince Charles we should do this, we wouldn’t have split up. Although there’s no way to know that. His reasons for leaving seemed inconsistent at best.

“What are you thinking about?” Jensen asks, and I don’t exactly want to admit I was thinking about my ex-husband.

I pull the hot dog from the flames and cup a bun around it, setting my spear aside. “I was thinking this is actually really nice. Thanks for bringing me.”

“Hey, it was your idea. I just executed it. Just goes to show you, you have really good ideas,” he says.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’m not boring or passionless. Maybe I do know how to have fun, be fun. We settle into a comfortable conversation as we eat, alternating between our getting-to-know-each-other game, wedding stuff, and the occasional Charles informational.

As we’re cleaning up, Jensen looks at me, rubbing his hands together and grinning wide. “Ready to go swimming?” he asks.

Shit.