incredible. I may be sore in certain fabulous places, but I feel like I could take on the world – and win. It’s as if our connection has buoyed everything inside of me, and it’s a total trip, feeling like this; fearless, invincible, all in.
And if that wasn’t enough, I spend the entire morning lazing around in bed, snoozing, daydreaming, texting with my sister about him, just generally being a bum on a rare morning that I don’t have to be at work or school. It’s wonderful.
Around noon, I head over to my parents’ place to pick up the supplies that Amelia has readied for me so I can cook dinner for Scott. We agonized over it all week and finally decided on a Tex-Mex casserole since he likes spicy. There are quite a few steps to it, but Amelia assured me I could handle it.
“Oh, mi amor,” Amelia gushes, embracing me with gusto when I walk into the kitchen. “How happy you look. You really like this boy, don’t you?”
I’m sure I’m glowing under her scrutiny. “I do. I know we’re just starting out, but there’s something special about him.”
She laughs. “Well, I didn’t think you would cook for just anyone.”
“Hey, I cook,” I say, mildly indignant. “Kind of.”
“Yes, of course, of course. You’re a regular Martha Stewart.”
I give her a mock glower that melts when she continues to laugh at me. I love Amelia so much. I ask about her family – they’re all fine. I ask about my family – they’re all fine. My mom and dad left for their place in Palm Springs this morning.
We go over the recipe again and I ask a million questions to be sure I’ve got a handle on it. Now more than ever, I want tonight to go well.
“You’re all set then,” she says happily. “I wish you luck.”
“Muchísimas gracias. I couldn’t do this without you.”
She waves me off. “That’s what I’m here for.”
I hug her tightly to me, not thanking her for what I really want to, for being a mother to me over the years. She doesn’t like any of us kids to focus on how our ‘real’ mother has never had much time for us.
“So, hey,” I say hesitantly as I pull away. “Before I go, I was wondering if I could ask you something.”
“Of course.”
“Do you think I have the right kind of personality to deal with kids?” I pause to pull in a steadying breath. “I know I don’t have a ton of experience with them, but . . .”
“Kids?” She’s suddenly concerned. “Does this boy . . . this man have children, Ellie?”
I nod my head nervously. “Yeah, he has one biological daughter, but there are three girls who see him as their father.” I bite at my thumb nail. I don’t want Amelia of all people to tell me that I’ve lost my mind, so I rush on. “That he’s such a good father is one of the things that I really admire about him.”
Amelia’s mouth opens, then closes, then opens again, as if she’s not sure what to say. She finally comes out with, “You’ve given this some thought?”
I must look like a bobble head doll with all the jittery nodding I’m doing. “Yeah, I have. I’m worried that my willingness to hang out with little girls isn’t going to count for much. What if they don’t like me? Or . . .” At this point I swallow hard, because here’s my real fear. “Or what if Scott doesn’t think I’d be a good influence? I’m not exactly a poster child for good morals.”
Her only response is a furrowed brow, so I give her more. “I mean, I want to be the kind of person who’s good for kids. But what if I’m not?” I hear the raw emotion that’s leaking into my words now, and Amelia is quick to speak this time before I can work myself up any more than I already have.
“Mira, mi amor, I think those girls would be lucky to have you in their lives. You’ve become a strong woman. You’re living proof that we can all change and work towards our goals and achieve them, right?”
I just blow out a heavy breath.
“Have you talked about this with him?”
“No, we haven’t gotten that far yet. He’s very protective of them.”
“Oh, my Ellie, he sounds like a wonderful man.”
I smile with relief. “He really is. I can’t wait for you to meet him.”
“I can’t wait either. And I