Page 67 of Legs

“It will set me back,” I said, “but it’s worth it. And FYI, I’ll be on a serious budget soon.” I faced the girls, needing to share my news, get it out and make it real. “I’m going back to school.”

Ainsley surveyed the store. Gwen wrapped her new scarf around her neck.

Neither acknowledged my comment.

I cleared my throat and tried again. “I’m going back to school.”

“What’s on tap this time?” Gwen asked. “Window washer? Dog trainer?”

Ainsley adjusted my skirt, smoothing out a side seam. “I saw online that a girl critiques dick pics. Like, breaks them down and analyzes the positives and negatives. You should do that. With our help, of course.”

Gwen scrunched her nose. “I’m all for hot guy pics, but peen shots? Not sure.”

That was a no for me. There was only one male specimen I cared to look at. One I’d swirled my tongue around last night until Jimmy had grunted my name and spilled into my mouth. I licked my lips. “If Jimmy’s is the last I see, I’ll die a happy girl.”

“Is he big?” Gwen asked, nudging me. “He looks like he’d be big. And good.”

The girls hadn’t ceased prodding me, trolling for bits of information, trying to get me to share juicy gossip. I glanced around, worried the store owner could hear us. “I’m not talking about my boyfriend’s dick.”

“What else do friends talk about?” Ainsley piped in. “Since neither of us have men in our lives, we need to live vicariously through you.”

“Not happening.”

My friends, of course, started talking to each other, as though I’d vanished.

Ainsley tapped her chin. “I bet he’s small.”

“Or maybe he’s all about himself,” Gwen said, “and doesn’t know how to please her.”

“That would explain why she hasn’t dished about him.”

“Right? If he were good, she’d be all gushy.”

Tired of their taunting, my harsh whisper rushed out. “He’s the perfect size and rocks my world and knows exactly what to do, and he’s pierced, which is ridiculously hot, and that’s the last we’re talking about my sex life.”

Gwen held up a hand. “Back up, buttercup. Did you say pierced?”

Oh, crap.

Ainsley sighed. “Does he have a twin?”

Two women entered the store, browsing through the quiet space. Before my friends could grill me on details or my cheeks burned any hotter, I shoved the conversation back on track. “Like I said, I’m going back to school. Not to add another useless diploma to my collection. This time”—I inhaled deeply, memories of my phone call earlier today speeding my pulse—“I’m enrolling in the Napa Viticulture program. Not sure I can get in for the fall, but I talked to admissions and there’s a chance. I can probably finish the course in two years, then I’d apprentice, so I’ll be, like, thirty before I dive into the field, but I’m going for it.”

Gwen looked ready to launch an attack hug. “Are you for real?” When I nodded, she flung her arms around me and squeezed. “This is the best news! But I thought the school thing was a hard no. What changed?”

She released me, both of us grinning like loons. “A bunch of things, really. The contest reminded me how much I love wine, but the service stuff wasn’t for me. And Jimmy’s been talking a lot about his family vineyard, what it was like being involved. I think not going for it would haunt me. I’d always wonder.”

I didn’t mention my birthday wish, still worried speaking it aloud would thwart my efforts. That my forward momentum was truly a result of that one fateful night. Everything with Jimmy was falling into place. Even my mother was on board with my plans.

After the Mitch and Cora bomb—the revelation bittersweet, knowing my father would never meet his grandchild—I figured returning to school wouldn’t shock her. I explained how long it had taken to figure out my path. That my fear of failing again and delaying my life had held me back. She didn’t cave right away, but she offered her support in the end. I may have pointed out my father was the reason I loved wine—a low blow, which made her cry—but she got behind my plan.

Sometimes a girl had to fight dirty.

“Does this mean you won’t get to dress dead people?” Ainsley asked.

I shuddered. “My mother tried to force the funeral home issue, but she came around. Even offered to pay my tuition, which feels wrong at twenty-seven, but I’m done being stubborn. If she wants to help, I’ll take it.” Which meant she’d hold it over me every time she asked a favor. More Maternal Guilt in her arsenal. Painful, but worth it.

Gwen pointed to the fitting rooms. “Go change. I’m buying your outfit as a congratulations you’re moving on with your life gift.”