“You do?”
“The whole topic sort of fell into my lap, literally. My first writing assignment was on social media, and I’ve been covering apps and such since then. ForAdweek.”
Dale leaned a little closer to whisper, “You’re my hero.”
I was so caught up in this new me, I wasn’t sure if he was hitting on me or being serious. I caught him glance down at my hand, and his gaze skimmed over my wedding band. He leaned back but didn’t make any excuses for his behavior.
Look, every lady likes when a charming man leans in, right? Or maybe it’s only the ones who live with monsters like I do?
“I don’t know about hero status,” I said, “but I keep a tiny side-eye on my budding social medialite. If you ever have any questions, let me know.” For someone who hadn’t been forthright in a very long time, I was certainly putting myself out there.
Dale stepped closer and ran his palm down my arm. I couldn’t help leaning into the soft touch when I should have pulled back.
“Really?” he asked. “You know, it would be great to have a sounding board. Someone who isn’t from work. Someone who really knows what they’re saying when it comes to tween girls.”
I couldn’t believe this was me, standing in the grocery store, making friends with a guy. Okay, the dad of a friend of Priscilla’s, but a friend no less.
“Sure. It would be nice too. I actually don’t talk to many of the other moms ... or dads.”
“Great,” he said, stepping back. “Here.” He pulled a card out of his wallet and handed it to me. “That’s my cell. Why don’t you text me your info?”
The card, the promises of texts, were too much.Mick. Mick. Mickwas all I could think.
Somehow, I pulled myself together, and said, “Perfect,” taking the card with a smile. “Don’t forget the almond milk.”
He grabbed a quart and said, “Talk to you soon,” and we parted ways.
As I went down the next aisle, looking for avocado oil, I kept looking over my shoulder. I was givingGirls Gone Wilda new meaning, picking up guys in bars and meeting dads in the grocery store. Luckily, no one saw us—I hoped.
One good thing was Tommy did nothing for the house or Priscilla or me. Errands, school meetings, volunteer committees, all that was beneath him. Another bonus was he’d been called back up to Vermont for an overnighter tomorrow.
As I strode to my car, I mentally repeated my latest mantra.Ignore, ignore, ignore.
This one word was the chalice I drank strength from. For the last week, every time I was alone in a room with Tommy, I’d whisper the wordignorein my head on repeat. I was determined not to fall into his trap or allow him to hurt me again.
Making a new friend gave me added hope of a new life, a new home for my heart to grow.
The next night, I sat with Priscilla as she ate pizza and told me about soccer practice.
“... and Annabeth got the goal, but she slid really hard on her hip and she was limping.”
“Oh no. I just saw her dad yesterday in Wegman’s. He asked me about almond milk.”
“She’s always talking about how her dad tries too hard. Her mom died, you know?” While I nodded, Priscilla took a bite of her pizza. “Mmm, this is so good. Take a bite.”
She held her slice of white pizza with fresh tomatoes toward me. I couldn’t resist and took a nibble, hoping the grease didn’t drip down my chin.
Wiping her own face, she said, “Yeah, poor Annabeth. Can you imagine?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head.
“She said her dad goes overboard with everything. She’s okay now, she said. Of course, she misses her mom, but this is her life.”
“You should have her over.”
“Maybe,” Priscilla said, grabbing her crust.
“We could do a girls’ night with her, you know? It could be fun.”
