I laughed under her breath. “It’s called eyeliner, baby. It’s supposed to make them stand out.”
“Oh.” Ava tilted her head, unimpressed. “They already stand out. You don’t need black paint.”
“Noted.” I set the pencil down and smoothed her hair. “You ready for your movie with Grandma?”
Ava nodded. “We’re watchingAddams Family Values.Grandma said she doesn’t really get it, but she’ll try.”
“That’s very brave of her.”
Ava grinned. “You look pretty, Mom.”
That made me pause. Not just because it was sweet, but because it had been a long time since anyone had said it.
“Thanks, sweetheart.”
I slipped on her shoes just as her mother appeared in the doorway, arms folded, expression deceptively mild.
“Well,” she said, tone crisp. “Don’t you look nice. Off to dinner with . . . what was his name again? David?”
Ava's eyes widened. “You’re going on a date?!”
I winced. “Ava, it’s just dinner.”
“With a very nice man,” my mother said.
My stomach dropped. “Mom, enough. I exhaled, steadying herself. “I’m not going on a date. I’m just meeting a friend. We’re going to an art show.”
This seemed to appease Ava, but my mom gave me a knowing look. After all these years, you would think I’d be able to read her looks, but I never could. And as I looked at the clock above the fireplace, I saw I didn’t have time to try and figure it out.
“I’ll be home by ten. Ava, be good for Grandma, okay?”
Ava gave her a little wave. “Have fun, Mom.”
The air outside was cool against her skin, smelling faintly of rain and honeysuckle.
For a moment, I stood on the porch, heart racing, and whispered to myself,It’s just friends hanging out.
But deep down, I knew it wasn’tjustthat for him. He’d said date . . . but did he mean date or like ‘it’s a date’? People say that, right?
But when I thought about the first time she saw him at the roller derby match. And the way he’d been so easy to talk to at the coffee shop during rehearsal. If there were a person to start dating, it would be him. But was it the right time? Would it ever be the right time?
The bakery was small, tucked between a bookstore and a flower shop with warm light spilling out of its windows like a promise.
I spotted Alex as soon as I stepped inside. He was at a corner table, standing when he saw me, smiling in that open, genuine way that made something in my chest go soft and mushy.
“You look beautiful,” he said.
I blushed, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself.”
He grinned. “I would’ve picked you up, but?—”
“Oh, it’s fine,” I said quickly, sliding into her seat. I didn’t add that my motherwould have made it a nightmare.“I like driving. Gives me a chance to breathe.”
“Fair enough,” he said, settling across from me.
In the back room of the bakery, there was a little stage surrounded by exposed brick walls. On those walls was art by a local artist. The pieces were bold and funky with thick lines, exaggerated shapes, and colors so bright they almost vibrated. The kind of art that didn’t apologize for taking up space.
The café buzzed quietly around us. As we stood close, taking in the pieces. A couple whispered in front of a neon-bright portrait that looked like it had been painted with equal parts joy and spite.
