“He is a good kid, but I’m keeping my eyes on him either way,” he whispers in my ear.
“I heard that!” Bella shouts.
“We’re looking out for you,” Jake adds.
“Fine. But again, we’re just friends. Okay?”
“Sure, sure,” I add. “You all have fun and be safe, okay?”
“I’ll take care of them like my own.”
“I know, Jake. Thank you. I appreciate you more than you know.” I hug him again and walk to do the same with Allie, who’s carrying Nico while holding Vero by the hand.
I squat down to talk to my girl. “You behave for Tia Allie and Uncle Jake, okay?”
“Yes, Mama.” She presses a wet kiss to my cheek before waving bye and leaving with my best friends.
What was I thinking?
I wasn’t thinking, actually, I was high on excitement and possibilities when I decided to buy and wear this dress, the black silk one that enhances every curve I have. It’s not tight, so I thought it would be flattering, but now, I feel too exposed.
We’re going out to dinner, but I feel like I’m dressed to go clubbing. I’m a mom, for goodness sake. Moms don’t wear dresses like this.
I sigh audibly, shaking off these irrational thoughts. Allowing myself to spiral first with all the negative talk that has invaded me since I was a teenager allows me to then negate it and reframe.
I can wear whatever I want, mom or not, right? Having kids does not make being a mom my whole personality. I felt goodwhen I tried this on, and yes, it enhances my curves, but my curves are beautiful.
I repeat all of it like a mantra, hoping one day, it’ll stick and become my first thought as opposed to whatever bullshit I’ve believed most of my life.
The doorbell rings, startling me. Okay. He’s here. I can do this.
I look in the mirror again, one last time. I take notice of my almost copper hair draping down my bare shoulders after I spent entirely too long flat ironing my curls to then put them in waves. My eyes find my naked neck, no sign of the necklace I often wear, holding Nick’s wedding ring. It was time for it to come off. I can honor him and his life and still find love again, right? Considering my full breasts and even fuller hips, I touch different parts of the silk dress and smile. I do look good. Right?
Another knock. Oh shoot.
I fight the urge to throw a jacket over my shoulders and grab my purse instead.
I look good. This isnottoo much. I feel good. I can do this. I repeat it over and over again.
I stand in front of the door, as if something major awaits me on the other side, but nothing is different. This is a date like many others we’ve had. We’re just dressed fancy, right?
We can do this.
Just another date.
I let out a breath before I open the door, and be still my heart. There he is, standing in light grey or beige pants, I can’t even get the color right. I clearly forgot how to breathe, or think, or anything in between. He’s also wearing an emerald green button-down shirt, his sleeves rolled to his elbow, a little tip of a black tattoo leaf peeking from under it. His hair is slightly tousled to the side, styled in a way I’ve never seen it before, and he’s wearing gold glasses, framing his gorgeous hazelnut eyes.
He’s so handsome, it hurts, and I can’t believe he wantsme.
I forgot manners too, apparently, since I’m leaving him standing there, holding flowers andlemons?
“Wow,” he whispers, as if he can read my thoughts. I blink, confused, until it hits me. He’s looking atmethe way I’m ogling him.
“Hi,” I whisper back, finding my words and calming my breathing, hoping the heat I feel all over my face and neck is not as obvious as it feels.
And if it’s obvious, so be it. He deserves to know the effect he has on me.
“Are those for me?” I smile at the arrangement.
