Guilt floods me. Here I am whining about this great guy I have in my life while Marla would give anything to have her husband back in hers. “I’m sorry, Marla. I’m being so insensitive.”
“Nonsense.” She turns back to me and takes my hands in hers. “You’re being realistic. Nobody would fault you for that. I’m sure even Hugh himself wouldn’t fault you for that. You deserve to be happy, Ivy. You deserve to have the life you want. Just remember sometimes that life ends up being different from what you imagined.”
She clasps my hands tighter, the movement making the faint light from across the room glint off her wedding ring. “There’s nothing wrong with having a little fun. Whether that leads to a happily ever after down the road, or whether Hugh isn’t the one, there’s no harm in enjoying the time you have with him now. You’re young and you have plenty of time to figure things out.”
I mull that over. “Let me ask you something,” I say slowly, and she nods. “If this were Bridget—if she had come to you and said she was going to have a fling with David or another guy—would you be so casual about it?”
She presses her lips together, and I get the feeling she’s trying not to smile. “Well,” she says at length, “I guess we’ll never know.”
“Oh, come on!” I snatch one of my hands from hers to flick her playfully on the shoulder. “What kind of answer is that?”
She wrinkles her nose. “An honest one. It’s not for me to approve or disapprove. If that’s what Bridget had wanted, I’d have supported her, just like I’m supporting you. You may not be my daughter by blood, but you know you’re mine in every other way.” Her light tone is undermined slightly by the wobble in her voice on the last few words. “Not everything has to be planned and not everything is set in stone. You can have a modern relationship, whatever that looks like for you. Just…just…” She averts her eyes. The light is faint in here, but I can see her cheeks are turning rosy. “Just for the love of god be careful because I’m not ready to be a grandmother yet!”
I burst out laughing. “You don’t have to worry about that, Mama,” I tell her, the words broken by my giggles. “If things get that far, I promise to employ the ‘no glove no love’ rule.”
Marla hops up from the couch. She shakes her head vigorously, even though she’s laughing now too. “I’m going to order pizza,” she declares, fleeing from the room.
The occasional giggle continues to roll out of me as I flop back on the couch and elevate my right foot. I haven’t felt much pain for most of the day, which is hopefully a good sign. I hear Marla’s voice from the kitchen, so she must have called the pizza place, despite the fact Bridget and I have showed her how to order online at least a dozen times.
As I wait, my mind replays bits and pieces of our conversation. I wouldn’t consider myself a prude by any means, but the guys I’ve had sex with in the past have all been boyfriends. I’ve never had casual sex because I’ve never dated casually. But Marla is right; I’m young and unattached. If I want to have a fling, and if that fling includes some sexytimes with the hot Scot, there’s nothing stopping me from enjoying every moment of it.
When Marla returns, we put another movie in while we wait for the pizza to arrive. It never takes long, and once it gets here, we dig in. I’m stuffing my face with a third slice when I hear the front door open. A moment later, Bridget appears in the living room doorway, her eyes moving between us and the food spread on the coffee table.
“Looks like I’m just in time.” She kicks off her boots and drops her overnight bag on the floor.
“I thought you were spending the night with David,” Marla says.
“Oh, I ditched him,” she says, waving a hand over her shoulder. “I couldn’t stand the thought of missing girls’ night. It’s been way too long.”
“Well then get over here.” I scooch to make room for her on the couch. “You’re just in time for the best part of the movie.” Bridget squeezes in between us, placing a kiss on her mom’s cheek, then my forehead before grabbing a slice of pizza.
We watch two more movies, stuffing ourselves with so much food I feel like I could burst. Marla falls asleep on the couch, so we cover her with a blanket and leave her there for now. Bridget helps me hobble up the stairs; I left my stuff in her room, figuring I might as well sleep there since she wasn’t.
“I’ll take my things to the guest room,” I tell her.
“Nah, sleep with me tonight.”
We change into our pajamas and get settled in Bridget’s bed. I never had sleepovers growing up; my mother didn’t like having other kids spend the night, and it was never an option with my aunt and uncle. My aunt barely even wanted me having people over during the day, which was fine since I didn’t have many friends. Bridget was the first person I’d ever shared a bed with, and we’ve done it so many times over the years, it feels like I’ve made up for all the slumber parties I missed in my childhood.
“I’ve missed this,” Bridget says into the quiet darkness.
“Me too.”
“I know things are changing, but I don’t want them to change too much.” She shifts toward me slightly. “I don’t ever want to stop having girls’ nights or hanging out. I don’t want to be the kind of girl who forgets about her friends—especially her best friend—because she’s in a relationship.”
“You’re not. You wouldn’t,” I assure her. “I’m not worried about that, if that’s what you’re thinking. I miss you and I miss how things used to be, but we always knew this would happen someday. That we’d become proper grown-ups and have lives outside each other.”
She chuckles. “True. Sometimes I feel like I’m struggling to adjust. To find a balance between work and David and Mom and you.”
“It’ll happen. These things take time.” Her hand brushes mine, so I hook my pinkie with hers. “I think you’re doing great,” I say around a yawn. “I’m really proud of all you’ve done in the last year.”
“Thank you.” Her voice is faint now. We used to stay up half the night talking when we had sleepovers, but we’re both fading fast. My last thought as I slip into sleep is how full my heart feels after a much-needed night with my two closest friends.
