I catch the way the realtor’s posture shifts—her head tilting, her lashes fluttering as she giggles. Oh no. She’s flirting with my cousin. Gross.
“Brookhaven isverysafe,” she assures him, her tone syrupy. “We’ve got the lowest crime rate in the state. She’ll be fine here. Will you be here to visit often?”
Memphis doesn’t seem to notice or care, because he’s already inspecting the windows, tapping the dirty panes to test theglass. I watch as he flips a switch in the bathroom corner. The light flickers weakly for a few moments, sputtering out with a stutter and a pop.
He turns to me, deadpan. “We’ll get you an electrician. This is ridiculous.”
“I think Natasha might already have someone in mind,” I say causing Memphis to roll his lips under his teeth, like he’s turning it over in his head. After a second, he nods, a small gesture that feels like reassurance that I’m not making a major mistake.
This is why he’s always been my favorite male in the entire human species. I didn’t grow up with brothers, didn’t have a dad, grandfather or any uncles in my life. Memphis has always been the closest thing to it. A constant, the one person who reminds me theremightstill be good men out there.
I’m not sure where, because they seem to be hiding from me. I hope he and Natasha enjoy their date. I think they’d be good together.
“Okay, well… I guess that’s it, then?”
The realtor beams. “So, you’ll be moving in with Natasha this weekend?”
I nod again, because honestly, I have no other choice. Natasha even offered me the primary bedroom with the attached bathroom that we just looked at, though now I get why—it’s a mess.
“Yeah.”
“Perfect!” She claps her hands, then flashes us a bright smile before heading out. “Good luck!”
And just like that, it’s just me and Memphis, standing in the echoing silence of this old, dusty house.
“I’ll help you clear out this junk and move your stuff in,” he offers. “You’re not doing this alone.”
I nod. “I appreciate that.”
He steps closer and rests his hands on my shoulders, his grip firm but gentle. “Tell me that you’re going to be okay?”
I smile. “I’m going to be okay.”
Here I am, twenty-eight-years old, starting over.Again. Trying to rebuild my life after my cheating husband blew everything that I thought I knew apart. Trying to find the joy that I used to feel, the excitement I used to have for teaching kids—the career I once loved but for years could barely look at without flinching.
Most days, I’m just trying to survive. Some days, it feels like I’m drowning, like the weight of everything is pressing down on me, holding me underwater. The past two years have left my nerves frayed and my need for control only amplified. Moving in here with Natasha, out of my grandma’s house… sure, it’s unexpected but maybe it’s the catalyst I need back to a new, independent version of myself that’s thriving. Thriving during the storm.
I let out a shaky breath and glance up at him. His eyes are full of concern, soft and steady, like he’s afraid I’m making the biggest mistake of my life by not just hauling my ass back to New York City with him and crashing on the floor of his apartment until I think this through more carefully.
“I’m going to be okay. I can’t go back to the city. I can’t go backwards. I’m going to figure this out. It just might be a little bumpy along the way.”
He nods, studying me quietly. “Well, the city’s only a quick train ride away. If you need me, I’m here. Always, Aly.”
I try to smile, but it feels weak, like it’ll crack if I’m not careful. “Okay…Hey, enjoy your date with Natasha. She’s probably one of the sweetest, loveliest people I’ve met here. So be nice to her.”
He smiles. “Okay. I will.”
Cheers to new beginnings.
Chapter 7: Alessia
I smooth my hands over the soft fabric of my dress and stare at my reflection in the mirror of my new bedroom.?
It’s been over a year—actually, probably closer to two—since I’ve gone on a real date. And I’ve never been on a blind one. My divorce was finalized last year, and before that, Brian hadn’t bothered to take me on dates in ages. Probably because he was too busy wining, dining and impregnating his mistress.
During the divorce, I didn’t have the time or energy for romance. I was in survival mode, conserving every ounce of mental and emotional strength. It felt like hibernation for a bear, except my winter was drawn-out litigation, asset division (plot twist, we hardly had any and he took all that we had), and keeping my sanity.
But now I’m done hibernating. My leg hair had grown to a point where I needed a beard trimmer to tackle it before shaving it smooth and lathering myself in the new lotion that I purchased aptly titledsmooth as glass. And yes, I took care of my pubes too. Because even though this is a blind date, I fully intend on sleeping with Natasha’s cousin tonight regardless ofwhether I feel a real connection to him.
