“Positive. I can hang out, watch a movie with you guys?” I asked. “If that’s okay?”
“I think I have a bottle of wine in the fridge,” Esme said. “Sounds like the perfect evening.”
With Esme and the kids, it always was.
5
ESME
Having finished the flowers for the Morrison wedding that afternoon, thanks to Grady, I was now getting ready for my date with the doctor. I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my tiny bedroom, scrutinizing my outfit. Normally, I wasn’t someone who thought overly much about what I wore. My vibe was casual and comfortable with a hint of Bohemian thrown in for fun. For my date with Mark, I’d chosen a pair of loose jeans and a light blue cashmere sweater Grady had gotten me for Christmas last year. Grady had said something about it matching my eyes, which had stuck with me. Of course. I swear it was pathetic how I clung to every compliment he’d ever given me.
I slipped my feet into a pair of ankle boots. They were slightly scuffed like me, but wouldn’t hurt my feet. Grady always teased me about how little tolerance I had for uncomfortable shoes.
Gillian’s daughter Grace had come over earlier to blow out my hair. For a fourteen year old, she was wickedly good with hair and makeup. We had similar hair, long and fine, so she knew just what to do. Then, she’d used her curling iron to make loose waves. All in all, it was a good hair day. Never to be taken for granted.
The kids were in the other room on the couch, reading. Robbie had gotten some kind of physics book from the library earlier. Madison, who had learned to read last year, had chosen a chapter book about a flying bus chauffeured by a cat.
I heard the doorbell ring and hurried out of the room to answer it. Grady stood in the hallway, a cake box in one hand and Chinese takeout in the other, wearing a T-shirt with his surf shop logo on the front and a pair of faded jeans that fit him just right. As did the T-shirt, stretching across his muscular chest. I’d seen him often enough without his shirt to know exactly what lay beneath. Six pack abs that made my legs feel weak.
“You look gorgeous. Did Grace do your hair?” Grady asked.
I laughed, playfully tossing my hair as if I were in a shampoo commercial. “She did. I feel fancy.” I held the door open wider to let him pass through, catching a whiff of something sweet from the box mingling with pork fried rice.
“I made a chocolate cake for after dinner,” Grady said. “And picked up some dinner.”
“You didn’t have to do that. There’s leftover pizza from last night.” Also paid for by Grady.
“I was craving sweet and sour chicken,” Grady said.
He set everything on the table just seconds before Madison hurled herself into his arms. He caught her and swirled in a circle. “Hello Sweet Pea, how goes it?”
“I got a new book at the library. I can read it all by myself.”
Grady set her on the floor. “Excellent news. Can you read it to me?”
“Do you like stories about cats who drive flying buses?” Madison asked.
“Those are my favorite,” Grady said.
“Really? Because I never read one before this.”
“I’ve been around a lot longer than you.”
“That’s true. You’re really old,” Madison said.
They settled together on the couch, side by side, and Madison began to read to him, stopping occasionally to sound a word out. Grady waited patiently, helping when needed. Seeing them together warmed my heart, as it always did, but it also filled me with a wistful longing. If only things were different. However, Grady was who he was, and my wishing he’d change for me was futile. I should have learned that by now, given my first marriage. I’d hoped my ex-husband would change but he never did. Jeff had wanted Robbie to change into what he called a “normal” boy. Robbie was who he was—in my eyes perfect—and no amount of bullying from his father was going to change that.
At the moment, Robbie was bent over his book, making notes about whatever he was reading and mumbling under his breath. I loved my sweet boy, even if he was about a thousand times smarter than his mother.
The doorbell rang from downstairs. I’d put in a security system that required a code to get in, which my girlfriends and Grady all had. But for everyone else, they had to press the button and tell me who they were before I let them up. Living alone made me nervous. After my divorce, I would lay awake for hours, worried about every creak. Delphine, always practical and solution based, had suggested the security system. I had slept better ever since.
I pressed the intercom. “Hello?”
“Oh, hey, it’s Mark.”
“I’ll be right down.” I wasn’t ready for a stranger to meet my kids, no matter how compatible Robbie’s algorithm suggested we are.
I reached for my coat hanging in the closet, slipping my arms through. “Okay, gang. I’m out of here.”
