She sighs in exasperation. “Seriously, Mom, I’m almost eighteen. None of my friends have to be home by ten. It’s totally lame. Now that Dad is gone, can you just like, forget that and let me stay out later? I don’t drink or anything. We just hang out and talk or get coffee.”
“Macy, your father is not gone. We’re separated, but he is still your father, and your curfew was his rule.”
“Yeah, Dad isn’t exactly great at sticking to the rules himself, now is he?”
Grinding my teeth, I try to pay attention to the road as the familiar pounding in my head returns. “We talked about those comments, Macy. I know this is difficult. It is for all of us.”
“Not for Dad, just the rest of us.”
I silently agree with her. Paul got to move in with Charlene the Great, and meanwhile, the kids and I have been thrown into a mess we don’t want to be in.
“Sweety, I know. Things will get better.”
“Tomorrow, I’m supposed to hang out with Shelly. Can I at least stay out ’til midnight? Or can she come here? We’re going to do a Vampire Diaries marathon.”
Crap. Tomorrow night I’m supposed to have dinner with Tim, a guy I work with. He cornered me in the break room every day for two weeks until I agreed to go out with him. I refuse, however, to consider it a date. When I agreed to have dinner with him, I figured it would shut him up for a few days, and then I could cancel a few days before, telling him I had to do something with the kids. And of course, I’ve had such a week from hell that I forgot to do that, so now it would be rude to call him tomorrow morning and cancel at the last minute, especially when I have to see him every day. You would think, with me working in Human Resources, I would know better than to ever agree to engage in any kind of out-of-office experience, which, oddly enough, the company I work for does not have a policy against. I make a mental note to bring that up at the next staff meeting.
“Mom? Hello? Are you even listening to me?”
“Yes, I just remembered I have to go out tomorrow night for work, so why don’t you have Shelly over? She can sleep over if she wants.”
“Awesomeness! I’m gonna go call her right now. Love ya.” She ends the call, done with me.
Later that night, as I’m sitting on the bed applying lotion to my tattoo and admiring how beautiful it is, the memory of Lukas’ hands lingering on my leg as he worked on me, how little electric tingles raced up my spine at his touch, come to the forefront of my mind. I haven’t felt like that in so very long, if ever at all. I wanted him to keep touching me, and I wanted to get my hands all over him, too. I wonder if tattoos cover his entire body. What would it feel like to glide my hands over those muscles and twist my fingers in his long hair?
As I’m getting into bed, I find a tiny black feather on my pillow. Frowning, I pick it up, wondering where it came from. I open my nightstand drawer and tuck it into the corner. It’s too pretty to throw away.
Snuggling under the sheets, I’m exhausted but unable to fall asleep because I can’t get these thoughts of Lukas out of my head. I can’t understand why he’s interested in me. Could it be some sort of joke? He really didn’t strike me as the game playing type, though. I can’t help but wonder why someone like him would be interested in me? I’m old, boring, and I have stretch marks. I have two kids. Clean laundry is the highlight of my weekend, and my life is a mess. Why would a hot young guy want anything to do with any of that? It makes zero sense.
Despite all that, I can’t deny that I really like him. He’s sweet, considerate, talented, and definitely knows how to kiss. I never thought a kiss could make me feel so much, not just within myself, but to actually be able to feel emotion coming from him as he kissed me. It was nothing short of incredible. I would have loved to go upstairs with him to kiss him all night, but I doubt it would have stopped there, and I’m not ready to be getting naked in front of anyone. I don’t think I’ll ever be. My own husband didn’t even want to have sex with me, so I’m pretty sure Lukas would be repulsed by me.
Rolling over onto my side, I decide all I have to do is get through one, possibly two more appointments, and then I won’t have to see him anymore, which is probably for the best. Then this little excursion of random excitement will be over, and I can go back to my boring life as a pending thirty-something divorcee with no life.
IVY
THE NEXT DAY, WHEN I DRAG my ass out of my bed and go down to the kitchen for coffee, I find Macy staring out the kitchen window like a rabid animal.
“Holy hell, Mom,” she says excitedly when she sees me. “That snow guy you hired is so cute!”