night is black tie.
The executive kind, silly. The echo of Beth’s disparaging voice resounds through my head.
“No, ma’am. I mean, Fee.” Sophia blushes, and I make a flapping motion with my hand, insisting she sit back down. We don’t stand on ceremony here. We don’t even belong in this kind of place!
“Miss Fee sounds like Nanny McPhee!” Lulu sprays a mouthful of popcorn in my direction. “But you’d have to grow a wart here,” she says, tapping her nose. “And I would have to be very, very naughty for you to get one of those.”
“I’m not sure that’s how warts work.” Because if that were the case, I’d be as warty as a toad.
“In Nanny McPhee, it does. And you would need to wear your glasses, not your contact lemses, but some really ugly ones.” As though I need the visual, she screws up her little face, making circles around her eyes using her forefinger and thumb.
Maybe she watches too much TV? I told myself I wouldn’t be one of those mothers who plonk their kids in front of a screen, but sometimes a person needs a little quiet and—
“What time are you going out?” Lulu drops her hands to her side, angling her head like a terrier as she delivers her anvil-sized hint.
“Who braided your hair?”
“Sophia did.”
“She let you brush it?” I almost squeak, my attention swinging to the teen.
“Because Sophia didn’t make my head go like this,” she barks, miming a little headbanging. “Do you know your dress has a hole in the back?”
“Er, yes. It’s supposed to look like this.” Expensive and sophisticated and kind of sexy. Honestly? I don’t even look like me. “Good job with the hair, Soph.” She either has the magic touch, or those braids are the result of her not being in a hurry. The latter I decide, consoling myself. “But are you sure you’re okay to stay late?”
The teen nods eagerly. “My dad is on shift until six a.m.”
“Oh, I won’t be that late.” Or early, as the case may be. “I’ll be back by eleven, definitely.”
“That’s okay, too, because my cousin said he can pick me up. I just need to give him a little notice. He drives an Uber on the weekends,” she adds by way of explanation.
“Oh. Okay.” Also, damn and blast. “Well, it sounds like we’ve got all bases covered.” Unfortunately. “So, erm, my cell number is on the fridge.”
“And pre-programmed into my phone, just in case.” She nods decisively. “I have your friend’s number, too. Just for emergencies. And don’t forget, my dad is just downstairs.”
“Right.” No escape for me, then.
“Lulu’s bedtime is nine—”
“And I’ll be a good girl and go straight to sleep,” my daughter adds with wide innocent eyes and a perfect disregard for the truth. “Because if I’m naughty, Sophia won’t look after me after school anymore, and we won’t be able to have any more girls’ nights like tonight.”
“Seems like you’ve thought this through.” Again, unfortunately. “But she’ll probably wake up at some point,” I throw in as a last attempt at putting the girl off.
“No, I won’t!” protests my little traitor.
“And she can be crabby.” Hooking my thumb at my child, I pull a face. “See? Maybe we should just order pizza and watch a movie. I’m a girl, too.”
“You’re not a girl. You’re a mommy,” Lu mutters in a voice a little like Regan in The Exorcist. “You gotta go out, okay?”
“Okay, okay!”
“We’ll be fine, Miss—we’ll be fine, Fee. And you know, you look much too pretty to be staying home.”
As my phone bings with Beth’s text—in the car downstairs—I feel like I want to smile and cry at the same time, and I’m not at all sure why.
Lu, bless her traitorous little cotton socks, takes my hands and walks me to the door as though it’s my first day at school. She presses a kiss to my cheek, practically propelling me out into the hall.
“Have fun, Mommy. See you later. Much later.”
The door slams shut, and that is the end of that, it seems.
My already pinching heels echo as I cross the marble foyer, and Ed opens the door to a blast of chilly night air. He smiles and inclines his head, and I murmur my thanks, choking back the ridiculous desire to blurt out that I need thermals, not nipple covers for this dress.
Nipple covers. Now, there is an item I thought I would never need again. Tiny pasties to pop over your nipples when going braless. The