“Whew.” Ellyn shivers. “I know how that is. Meghan was a colicky baby,” she adds. “Every night was like going to war. Nothing I did soothed her. It calmed down for a while, but then she started teething and it started all over again.
“I lost years of sleep staying up all night with her, walking back and forth, rocking her, feeding, singing. Even driving around the neighborhood at two a.m.”
“And your husband?”
Ellyn seems surprised by the question. “He went and slept in the guest bedroom.”
I assume the incredulity shows up on my face because she quickly adds, “He was the breadwinner for the family, so he needed a good night’s sleep. Hard to do that with a fussy, crying baby in your ear all night long.”
I take another spoonful of my chili to keep from saying my real thoughts. Besides, I’ve made my fair share of parental fuckups to last me a lifetime.
“What were you doing yesterday anyway?” I ask after a few minutes of silence.
“Huh?”
“It was late afternoon when you were just coming out of the shower. Day just getting started?”
“Oh, sort of. I’d just come from a Pilates class and running errands. I wanted to film a couple of videos before the sun went down. I love catching the last few rays of sunlight in my videos.”
“Videos?”
Dipping her head, Ellyn smiles. I catch myself staring at her mouth again.
“I’m a YouTuber,” she says proudly, a wide smile displaying her perfect straight white teeth.
“What’s that called? An influential?”
More laughter. It makes me rack my brain for another joke or something funny that’ll make her laugh even more just so I can hear it again.
“An influencer,” she corrects.
“Right.” I take another bite of my cornbread, taking my time to savor the bite before swallowing.
“Isn’t that for twenty-somethings?”
“What are you trying to say?” She places a hand on her uninjured hip and cocks her head to the side.
I study her features for a moment before my fingers tingle with the desire to trail the tips along the skin of her neck to see if it’s as soft as it looks. I would imagine so as I try to recall back to yesterday when I held her in my arms.
Though, I was too preoccupied with making sure not to injure her any further to focus on how soft her skin felt underneath the pads of my fingers.
“I’m saying you’re not twenty-something,” I reply instead. “You could pass for it, but with a daughter who’s in law school, there’s no way in hell.”
A burst of laughter makes my lips twitch into a grin even as I do my damnedest to suppress it.
“No, I’m not a twenty-something. Thankfully, I don’t need to be. Turns out, there’s a pretty nice market for us fifty-somethings.”
“What’s your channel about?”
“Mostly fashion and lifestyle. I started a few years ago just doing some makeup tutorials here and there. After my divorce, I needed an outlet. A way to express my creativity while going through one of the hardest times of my life.
“I never thought anyone would watch a fifty-year-old divorcée talking about fashion or the best looks to wear to your divorce hearing. But I picked up a following. Then I started getting sponsorships from jewelry, makeup, and clothing brands.
“Five years later, it’s my full-time job.” She shakes her head. “That’s what I was getting ready to film yesterday. A sponsored video for this company that sent me these really comfortable jumpsuits. I’ll have to wait another week or two to film that now.”
“You like it?”
“Love it,” she replies. “Not for the fame or anything like that. I’ve gotten so many emails and comments from older women who say I inspired them to try a new look or to speak up for themselves in their marriage or relationship.”
