Carter kind of rolled off her and pulled a blanket over them both. Too late. I’d already seen their naked bodies, all sweaty and pink.
And everything came together in one horrifying, crystal-clear moment. My husband was cheating on me with his nubile intern. Our marriage was over. The man I’d given my heart to, had a precious child with, was in bed with a woman not yet old enough to legally drink.
Even in that state, I was a mother first. I didn’t shout or throw things. My daughter was running a fever. She needed rest, not to wake to the sound of her mother losing her mind.
“Lila, I didn’t think you’d be back tonight,” Carter said.
“Get out. Both of you.” My voice was deadly calm.
“Lila, let me explain,” Carter said.
The Girl Scout hot dog dinner was roiling in my stomach, moving its way up. “I’m going to vomit now. Don’t be in my bed when I’m done.” Then, I ran to the bathroom. Salt in the wound—Pixie’s red, lacy lingerie.
Now, as I was reflecting on this vivid occurrence, I reached forward and snapped off the radio, plunging the car into silence. My breathing was shallow. My vision a little blurred.
The memory of the second I knew my family would not survive would live forever in my mind. The exact moment that broke me, changed me forever. Snatched away my belief in true love and happily-ever-after. In building a life with a man I adored.
That kind of pain could not be magically erased. Five years had passed and still it stung. Yet here I was, a few minutes aftera lovely date with a lovely man, trying again. It might be foolish, but I was not going to let the past dictate the future. I’d had a date with a man I liked. One I could see falling in love with.
What if I’m wrong again? I’d crafted my life to be safe from hurt. But this was life or death. I had to choose living. It was time. And I was just going to have to be brave.
By the time I got home, Mia was curled up on the couch in her pajamas, a bowl of popcorn beside her and a movie paused on the TV.
“Well?” she demanded the second I walked in. “How was it?”
I set my purse down and kicked off my sandals. “It was … really good.”
“I knew it.” She bounced up, grabbing my hands. “Tell me everything. What did you talk about? Was he funny? Did he kiss you?”
“No kiss. Just talking. A lot of talking.”
“Good talking?”
“Yeah. Great talking.” I sank onto the couch beside her. “He’s exactly like his profile—kind and funny and interesting. We didn’t run out of things to say all night.”
“Are you seeing him again?”
“Tomorrow.”
Mia squealed. “Mom, this is amazing!”
“It’s one date. Well, two. But still, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“I’m not getting ahead of anything. I’m just happy you had such a good time.” She curled into my side. “You deserve someone who sees how special you are. Like Alex sees Gillian.”
My throat tightened. I hadn’t always done a great job showing my daughter what healthy self-esteem looked like. My first instinct was to say something humble, to remind her that gratitude should be enough. But I wanted more for her. I wanted her to have it all—love, family, a meaningful career. Why shouldn’t I want that for myself too?
“I want that,” I said softly. “Even though it’s really scary to be dating at my age.”
“You’re only thirty-six, Mom. That’s still young. And you’re so pretty and accomplished. Any guy would be lucky to have you.”
Then why had my husband cheated on me? I pushed the thought aside before it could sink its teeth in.
“Thanks for pushing me,” I said. “Sometimes it feels like our roles are reversed, but I’m grateful you did. You’re the best daughter I could ever imagine.”
“Oh, Mom, every mother says that.”
“Perhaps. But in this case, it’s true.”
