roles were reversed—if I were gone, if Jackson were raising Jase.
My thoughts go to Malcolm.
Beautiful Mandy.
A smile comes to my lips.
Malcolm is something different, something new. What I did with him, what we did together, was out of character. Totally. Just like Alec told me to be. But it wasn’t meant to be a springboard to a new relationship. It was meant to be my one night to remember that I’m more than a mom, daughter, sister, friend, and employee—that I’m a woman.
The last time I had sex—before the mini-marathon Friday night—was before Jase was born. Immediately following Jase’s birth, I couldn’t. Jackson didn’t mind. He understood. Jackson always understood. Besides, he was due to return home in three months. We both believed there would be time.
Now, I wonder what I’m doing with my time.
Even if I’d never returned Malcolm’s call, during our one night he gave me exactly what I’d been seeking: the reminder that I am a sensuous woman. He gave me that multiple times.
I struggled with whether or not to call him back after I received his text message. There were so many times on Saturday when I reached for my phone, only to put it back down. On Saturday, I let my principles win. I stuck to my guns and senses. I kept telling myself that I didn’t want a relationship. I don’t need that complication in my life. Most importantly, Jase doesn’t need it.
That worked until I had trouble remembering my reasons for not calling. Until I remembered how special I felt with him.
Tonight, I caved.
Beautiful Mandy.
Special, pretty, and even treasured.
Tonight, while we were on the phone, his deep voice filled me with a sense of being something special—something more than just a tired mom. It’s not like I have self-esteem issues. I don’t. And I’d like to think I wouldn’t be described as nice—as in uglier than shit. The thought makes me smile as I imagine Malcolm describing his blind date.
While I don’t have issues with low self-esteem, I also don’t have anyone to boost my self-confidence. I have Jase, who tells me I’m pretty. But we all know that will change when Alec teaches him about ponytails and dimples. Once my son discovers girls, his mom won’t be the prettiest woman anymore. I also have my parents. They are always complimentary. And there’s Alec who teases me about my breasts, or lack thereof. Yet none of those people’s praise or ribbing makes me tingle the way I do when Malcolm calls me beautiful.
As I think back on Friday night, he’d even said that to the bartender, told him I was beautiful and gorgeous, before we ever spoke.
Staring up at the dark ceiling, looking for justification, I know that I called Malcolm tonight because I stopped thinking about why I shouldn’t call and began considering why I wanted to. I recalled how within minutes of meeting, Malcolm calmed my trepidation at being alone in the bar. I remembered the ease of our conversation and the warmth of his skin as he fell asleep holding me tightly to his frame. I recalled the security of sleeping in his arms and what it felt like to not be alone.
Before I called, I tried to tell myself that I was acting crazy. I barely know the man. And while it’s quite obvious he doesn’t have an erection issue, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have other issues.
And now that I have called, I keep wondering.
He said he is employed. But what don’t I know? While my brain says his issues could be something serious like a police record, tremendous debt, or a family history of mental-health problems, my heart tells me to stop exaggerating. If Malcolm Peppernick has issues, it’s probably something more like he stays up too late, likes scary movies, or worse, doesn’t sleep in on the weekends.
My pulse kicks up a notch.
I love to sleep in, any chance I get. I could never be with a man who’s an early riser.
What if he is a runner? Or long-distance bicyclist?
Staring at the ceiling, I imagine the horror of dating a man who enjoys exercise. I don’t think I can do that. What if he’d want me to exercise too?
My heart beats faster.
What if he doesn’t like chocolate or doesn’t drink coffee?
I sit up in my dark bedroom and wonder why I called him back. Why did I agree to another date? This isn’t right. I can’t bring a non-chocolate-eating, non-coffee-drinking exercise freak into my son’s life.
It’s