I gave him a little wave. He started to open his door.

"That's okay," I said. "I can get my door."

I kept walking. Billy climbed out anyway. He was wearing jeans and another short-sleeved knit shirt with a collar, this time blue. I thought shirts like this were best left to golfers, and on Billy they looked incongruous, even borderline geeky. I wondered if he'd bought one in every color, and called it a wardrobe. Or maybe his kids gave him another one every Father's Day, now that he and their mother were divorced and he no longer had to wear ties.

Billy reached around me and opened the pa.s.senger door. He even smelled outdoorsy. Either he'd just finished mowing the lawn, or spending so much time outside had seeped into his pores.

"Thanks," I said.

"It's good to see you," he said. He leaned in for a kiss.

I turned my head and kissed him on the cheek. "You, too."

Just as there is no graceful way to avoid a kiss on the lips, there is no graceful way to get into a pickup truck. I grabbed the doorframe with both hands and hoisted myself up. I felt Billy's hand on the small of my back. I focused on ignoring the little shower of sparks his touch set off while I found the seat belt. He shut my door and walked around to his own.

I turned sideways and checked out the two red metallic Akiras in the rear of the pickup. "What, no Datenic?" slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it.

Billy laughed. "After all the abuse you gave me last time? I'm sorry, but it's going to have to be a Datenic-free date this time."

"Aww," I said.

As soon as I said it, I regretted it. Instead of acknowledging that this was a date, what I should have done was to casually say something that would dial this back from a date to a predate. I mean, what was the rush? Why couldn't we just be bike buddies for a year or two?

Billy stretched his arm across the back of the seat and turned to back out of my driveway. The band on his sleeve gripped his biceps, and the muscles of his forearms looked strong and sinewy.

I turned away and stared out my window.

"I was thinking we could ride first, then go out to lunch. There's this great little off-the-beaten-path courtyard cafe I want to take you to, if that's okay."

"Sure," I said, because I couldn't quite think of a polite way to say, You know, I think I'd prefer somewhere just a tiny bit less romantic than an off-the-beaten-path courtyard cafe today. If that's okay.

I rolled down the window. It was another beautiful day. Not a cloud in the sky. Though, really, that could change anytime. One minute you'd have a perfect day, and an hour later the sky could open up and it would be pouring.

We zigzagged along the same tree-lined back roads we'd taken last time. Billy turned on the radio and started switching stations. He stopped when he came to Van Morrison singing "Brown Eyed Girl." He started singing along. His voice wasn't that great.

Maybe the trick was to nudge things back to business. "So," I said. "What's the latest on j.a.pan? Did you meet with your go-between yet?"

"Yeah, we've met, and things are really moving. The guy's great. He's got some meetings set up already, so it looks like we'll be heading to Tokyo next month."

"Wow," I said. "That was fast." I hoped I didn't sound as left out as I felt. I could actually feel disappointment sitting like a rock in my stomach.

We drove past the ball field, and Billy put on the blinker. We took a right onto the dead-end street that led to the back entrance to the state park.

Billy pulled into the wooded parking lot. He put the truck into park and turned off the engine. I pushed the release b.u.t.ton on my seat belt and reached for my door handle.

"Wait," he said.

"What?" I said.

I turned.

He leaned across the long black leather seat. He put one hand firmly on each of my shoulders. "I just wanted to say I've been thinking about you all week," he said.

I leaned back. The door opened. I screamed.

He grabbed me by the wrists and yanked me back just before I fell out.

"Whoa," he said. "That was close."

"No kidding," I said.

He was still holding my wrists.

"Are you okay?" he said.

"Listen," I said. "I can't do this."

He let go of my wrists. He took off his sungla.s.ses and placed them on the dashboard. He looked at me with his racc.o.o.n eyes. "What's up?"

I buried my face in my hands and shook my head back and forth. "I'm a mess. I don't know what I want. I'm not even sure I know who I am. And I think I might have, I mean, I. I. I."

I looked up.

Billy smiled. "Ay yi yi?"

"Yeah, pretty much." He had a great smile. He was such a nice guy. Why hadn't I remembered that before I jumped into bed with Seth?

"Come on, it can't be that bad."

"Ha," I said.

Billy reached over and took the keys out of the ignition. "Then how about we ride first and talk later. Things always look better once you get a few miles in."

He handed the bikes down to me, and then the helmets. He swung himself over the side of the truck with an easy athleticism that was hard not to admire.

I strapped on my helmet. When I straddled my metallic red Akira, its eerie eyelike handlebars peered up at me.

"What are you looking at?" I whispered.

Billy let me set the pace. I rode as hard as I could along the smooth, wide surface. The shady trail was cool and comforting, a welcome relief from the bright light of day.

The growth on either side of the path seemed greener and lusher than even a week before. I breathed in the rich smells of pine and what I thought might be honeysuckle in bloom. I pushed my pedals harder and welcomed the burning sensation in the center of my thighs.

I had this crazy thought that maybe I could keep riding, for a few months, even years, until my life sorted itself out. Anastasia could ride with me when she wasn't at school, or sleeping or eating or doing her homework, but the rest of the time I'd just keep pedaling solo.

Maybe I could set up a stationary bike to make it more practical. I'd just keep pedaling and pedaling all day, like a hamster on its wheel. If I put the bike in the middle of the kitchen, it would make it even more practical, since I could just reach over and cook dinner at the same time. And answering my GGG calls would be a piece of cake. Lunch Around the World might be a little more problematic, but I'd think of something.

My T-shirt was sticking to my back, and I could feel beads of sweat on my forehead. My lungs were starting to burn, and my right knee made a little clicking sound about every third rotation. The bicycle seat was getting harder by the minute, and the center of each cheek of my b.u.t.tocks had a burning spot to match the ones in my lungs. The muscles in my forearms were feeling overworked and underappreciated.

Billy rode up beside me. "Up to you, but you might want to take it down a notch or two," he yelled. "Or you could regret it in the morning."

It wouldn't be the first thing I'd regretted in the morning.

I turned to him. I took a ragged, fiery breath.

"I slept with my husband," I yelled.

And then I crashed.

27.

WE WERE SITTING AT THE OUTDOOR CAFe, AND I HAD MY leg propped up on an extra chair. A cloth napkin wrapped around a Baggie filled with ice was resting on my knee, which felt frozen and flaming at the same time, like it might turn into Baked Alaska just in time for dessert.

"I can't believe I didn't even see it," I said.

"Those branches come at you like that sometimes." He leaned over and repositioned the ice before I even realized it was starting to fall off. "You fell like a pro though. The trick is to tuck your chin down, bend your arms at the elbows, and try to land on your side. And to stay relaxed. You're much more likely to get hurt if you're tense."

"Ha," I said. "That's the first time anyone has ever accused me of not getting hurt because I was relaxed." I took a bite of baby greens mixed with thinly sliced pear and goat cheese, and sprinkled with balsamic vinaigrette. "Mmm, this is delicious."

Billy broke off another piece of bread. "Isn't this restaurant great? It's like being in another place and time."

I looked past the herb garden to the fountain in the center of the patio to the perfectly aged stucco walls surrounding us. "They did a great job with all the stonework. It looks like a country cottage somewhere in Europe."

"I've always wanted to go rent one for a month. Maybe in England or France or something."

I nodded. "I know. In France the cottages are called gites, and there are lots of them on all these picturesque little side streets. I've always dreamed of renting one, too, maybe in Giverny."

Billy took a sip of his iced coffee. "So, where do things stand between you and your ex?"

"You mean, besides the fact that he's not technically my ex?"

"You're not divorced?"

I took a slow sip of my iced tea. "Not to my knowledge," I said.

Billy tilted his head. "That tends to be something one knows about."

When I put my gla.s.s back down on the wrought iron table, it tilted sideways. I grabbed for it. My ice fell off. I bent down to pick it up.

I just missed crashing heads with Billy.

"Sorry," I said. I picked up the napkin-wrapped ice and placed it on my knee again.

He leaned back in his chair. "Wow," he said. "You're fairly dangerous."

"That's an understatement," I said.

We looked at each other.

"Here's the thing," Billy said. "If you can work things out with your husband, what's not to like? Nothing beats keeping one big happy original family intact."

"Yeah," I said, "except for the fact that he abandoned us. How could I ever really forgive that? And, I mean, every time he's five minutes late, I'm going to think he's gone again."

Billy shrugged. "People work through a lot of stuff."

I tried to read his eyes through his sungla.s.ses. "Are you trying to get rid of me?"

He laughed. "No. It's just that one thing I've learned is you can't want someone enough for both of you. You'll get back with your husband or you won't. Keep me posted. I mean, what else is there to say?"

The more he talked, the more I didn't want to lose him. "But what are you going to do in the meantime?"

We waited while the waiter took our salads and delivered our salmon. We were so compatible we'd even ordered the same entree.

"Thanks," Billy said to the waiter. He picked up his fork. "Just keep on keepin' on, I guess. The way I look at it, life's a marathon and not a sprint."

"G.o.d," I said. "You're so well adjusted." I was actually starting to think it was a tiny bit irritating.

Billy finished chewing a bite of salmon, then wiped his mouth with his napkin. He even had good table manners. "I just don't need the drama, that's all." A shadow of hurt crossed his face. "My ex-wife fed on drama. Everything was always a big scene."

"That must have been tough."

We ate quietly for a while, thinking our separate thoughts.

"Did you ever sleep with her?" I blurted out. "You know, after you were separated?"

He shrugged. Then he lifted one eyebrow.

"Oh, I'm so relieved," I said. "I thought there was something seriously wrong with me. The whole thing just came out of nowhere."

"It happens," he said.

"It was like what was between Seth and me didn't have anything to do with the rest of the world."

Billy shrugged. "You had your own little world for a lot of years."

"Yeah, I guess."

His eyes met mine. "And sometimes it seems safer to slide backward than to move forward."

"Was it, I mean, did you like sleeping with your ex?"

He reached for his water gla.s.s. "If all it took was good s.e.x, a marriage would be a lot easier to keep together," he said finally. "I think eventually it comes down to choosing the life you want, and the person you want to share it with. I don't think it's a choice you can take lightly."