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“Do you think you’ll ever get married again?” Denny asked his young friend, looking out at Boston's night skyline.
A little taken aback by the sensitive question. Alan mustered a nonchalant smirk with sadness in his eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. Maybe I’m past that thought. Why do you ask?” He took another swig of scotch.
“Just curious. You don’t think you’ll ever get married again? Even if the right woman came along?"
“I thought the right woman came along a couple of times, but I don’t know, Denny. I don’t see anyone being that.” Losing Mary broke Alan’s heart more than he wanted to admit at times. A heart that never fully healed, and so far, no woman could fill her place. He tried, and some got close but just not close enough.
“Not one woman?”
“Well – ”
“Alan.”
They turned around to see the beautiful Shirley Schmidt.
“I just wanted to say good job today and thank you for doing that. I know that trial wasn’t easy for you, but I greatly appreciate it nonetheless.”
Alan wanted to make a flirtatious comment, but surprisingly, nothing came out. His guard slipped, and he gave her the softest smile.
“You’re welcome, Shirley.”
No innuendo. No flirting. Nothing. Shirley blinked, taking in the rare occasion and even rarer expression on his face.
“Well.” She swallowed. “Goodnight, gentlemen.” She smiled and walked off the balcony. They bid her goodnight.
“Seriously? Not one woman in all of Boston?” Denny repeated, struggling to light his cigar. “Oh, come on.” He snarled.
Alan ignored his friend’s irritation, watching Shirley’s retreating form. “Well. Maybe one.”