“Bev.” I blow her a kiss and wave. “Got to dash, ladies. Have a good brunch.”
The smells of coffee and the sounds of happy chatter are so welcoming, for a minute, I consider texting my chief and canceling our meeting to stay home and hang out with my family and Ma’s friends, who, after all these years, are family too. I look down at my nephew and catch a glimpse of the magazine that is protecting my list of accomplishments and my résumé.
I have a moment of self-doubt seize me so hard, I almost drop back onto my knees.
Ever since my divorce, I’ve been stuck. Lost. Every time I get close to something that matters to me, I lose it, fuck it up, or run away.
I’m thirty-six, live at home with my parents, and haven’t been on a real date in three months.
What I’m doing with my life, what I’ve done… I don’t know.
I’m not like Benito, driven and intense in work and deeply committed to sowing my wild oats. My older brother Franco has had the same job for his whole life practically, and he has a woman he loves by his side. Gracie is an accomplished tattoo artist with two stepkids, a great husband, and now her own little nugget, Ethan.
I’m a middle child who’s always been the lost kid.I thought that marrying Michelle was the answer to making the life I wanted, but turns out, I wasn’t enough for her.
And I just got passed over for a promotion at work I wanted badly, but I wasn’t enough for that either. For a hot second, I consider saying fuck it.
Dreams are for different people.
I could stay and eat brunch and hang with my family, but then what?
When everyone goes home to their lives, I’m going to go back upstairs to my bedroom and feel like shit about myself all over again?
I shake my head and smooth Ethan’s hair. “Love you, kiddo, but I got to hustle up.”
“Who you looking so sexy for, V?” Sassy gets up and heads over to pick up little Ethan. She lowers her voice. “Speaking of sexy, did your mother tell you who I saw last night?”
I stifle a groan.
The last thing I need is for my mom’s friends to get into matchmaking mode.
Michelle is my past. She is most definitely not my future. She made that much clear when she divorced me.
“She did, Sassy, but you know that’s old news. Nothing I’m going to get myself worked up over, and none of you need to either.”
“What? What’d I miss?” Gracie pours some cream into her coffee and starts cutting up a child’s plate full of food. “Who’d Sassy see?”
“Wish I could stay, but I’m late.” I slip my feet into my shoes and tie the laces as fast as I can so Ma doesn’t yell at me for running around without them tied. “Y’all can talk about me once I’m gone.”
I check my pocket for my wallet and phone, then reach for the shelf Pops installed on the wall for my keys. But there’s nothing hanging on the hook where my truck keys should be.
“Ma!” I yell. “Where are my keys?”
“Oh, shoot.” Ma pushes back from the dining room table and pads over to me. I try not to think about the time. The chief is going to give me hell for this. “I’m sorry, honey. I moved your truck onto the street so the girls could park in the driveway. Your truck is down the street.” She fishes the keys out of a pocket in her rhinestone-bedazzled jeans. “Here you go, baby. Have a great day, son.”
I grab the keys, grin, and with the magazine in one hand, yank open the front door.
“Oh, uh…hello?” a soft voice says. Standing on the front stoop is probably the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen. And since my ex-wife was a stripper, that’s saying something.
“Hello?” I look into her eyes and realize this woman is tall. Like nearly eye level with me, and I’m just shy of six feet. She’s not skinny and lean like Michelle was. This woman is full-figured, which I cannot miss since she’s holding a wriggling little girl about Ethan’s age against her ample chest.
“Oh God. I’m so sorry. Did I knock on the wrong door?” The woman is staring at me, blinking her brown eyes rapidly. She squints and takes a step back, looking for the wrought-iron numbers that correspond to our street address on the front of the house.
“This is the Bianchi residence.” I’m gripping the keys in my hand so tightly I feel the metal cut into my palm. I loosen my grip and cock my head. “Who are you looking for?”
“My aunt Shirley,” she says, looking dazed. She frowns and pulls a cell phone from the front pocket of a large purse-style diaper bag. “I’m sorry to have bothered you.”
She turns and starts to walk back down the walkway when I call out to her. “Shirley… Do you mean Sassy?”
