A week later:
Guess who called me? Our sweetie, Greg. You know, my sweet b***h. You tried to set me up with him at the solstice party? Took me a sec to remember him. ‘You probably don’t recall. I liked your pictures, remember? You wrote your number on my hand?’ He teased me about that lens cap.
Said he didn’t want to intrude in my life, but you’d said you were leaving about now. Thought I might ‘become what Astrid called a widow.’ Plus. Get this. ‘I hope you’ll understand this. Recall those shots?’ I said yeah and there was this pause. “Hard to get this out, but easier over the phone and with you. Jeff was right. The sit-up guy? I did like the view. You follow?”
I followed. So he won’t be another handsy Mike. (Probably not I bet.)What a relief. (‘Course, I thought you were so innocent,
