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I can’t numb the pain of waiting with sex. Then I’ll never heal at all.
But getting my groove back physically? Emotionally? That doesn’t seem like a bad idea. In fact, it seems like a necessary part of coming back to myself. And who better to help with that than my honest, kind, smoking-hot best friend? The guy I’ve been confiding in, trusting, forever?
It’s just—in my heart of hearts, I know I want to at least try more with Beau. Maybe it will take some time. We’ll have to get to know each other in a whole new way, but my gut is telling me it’s worth a shot.
Annabel: I feed Maisie at 7, so how about dinner around 7:30? I hope you’re okay. Looking forward to talking. Maisie says hello!
Beau: Hi, Maisie! 7:30 sounds good. Can I pick you up?
My heart pops again. There’s something so…gentlemanly about a guy picking you up. Romantic.
Is this a good sign? Bad sign?
And why do my hands shake as I type my reply?
Annabel: Sure. I’ll ask Mom if she can babysit. It’s hard for me to concentrate when I have Maisie with me.
Beau: Okay. The resort has sitters on retainer, by the way.
Beau: Just in case you ever need one. You’ll be put at the top of the list.
Annabel: You really need to stop.
Beau: Stop what?
Annabel: Being ridiculously over the top with your generosity.
Beau: Speaking of—2PM massage work for you?
Annabel: STOP
Beau: Jesus Bel just let me flaunt my wealth and fame okay?
Beau: [Winky face emoji]
Beau: Christ, you made me use an emoji. See you at 7:30.
“A scarf with pajamas.” Mom tilts her coffee mug to her lips, giving me a once-over. “That’s a new look.”
I startle, glancing up from my phone. My hand immediately goes to my neck. The hickey there pulses.
“I was chilly when I woke up.” I sip my coffee. “Coffee’s great. Thank God.”
“They truly have the best of everything here. How was last night?”
“Good,” I reply a little too quickly. “Hank is really talented. As a musician. The stuff he played was great.”
“And Beau?”
I swallow. The coffee scalds my tongue. “It was a treat, hanging out with Beau again. Nice to feel like my pre-baby self for a bit.”
Even nicer to be pressed against a wall and kissed by the guy I’ve wanted since we met.
Sounds a little weird, considering I was married there for a bit. But when I met Ryan, Beau was still all over the place. He was dating an actress and buried in building the resort. I was ready for romance. Ready to find real love and start a family. I told myself the timing wasn't right with my old college friend and moved on.
And I did move on while I was with Ryan. I was genuinely in love with my husband. But now that he’s out of the picture…
I mean, what if this was all meant to happen? My divorce, the PPD, that sultry Rolling Stones cover?
What if I was meant to be with Beau all along?
Mom grins. “Is that who you’re texting?”
How do moms know everything?
“Yeah. Yes. We’re, um, gonna have dinner tonight.”
Mom is trying to fight a smile. It’s a fight she’s losing.
“What?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Nothing. You just seem a little…jittery this morning. Are you excited about something?”
Excited. Turned on. Confused. Scared.
“I’m…in my feelings, yeah.”
“What’s ‘in my feelings’ mean?”
I glance out the window. “It’s something the youths say. Means you’re feeling stuff. I think, anyway.”
A hollow wail erupts from the monitor. Just like it does every time I attempt to sit down. To breathe. To talk. To have coffee. Will she ever do what the books tell me she’ll do and sleep for a full hour?
I fight off the tears as I get up to go comfort her. Again.
The massage helps.
Helps pass the time.
Helps my hamstrings and butt, which apparently are connected to the spasm-y ache in my lower back.
But my general mental well-being? Jury’s out on that. Halfway through the eighty minutes—because sixty wasn’t enough for Beau—my mind, ever the saboteur, starts to spin out.
I left my baby with my mom yet again. I make a mental note to book Mom a massage too.
This feels too good. I’m too relaxed. Am I getting away with something? I’m definitely getting away with something.
My boobs hurt. Am I leaking all over the table?
I miss Maisie.
No, I don’t.
Should I miss her more?
I want to kiss Beau again. Then I want to get him naked.
I don’t want this massage to ever end.
But it does, sadly, and afterward I get dressed in the swanky locker room. Then I shoot my friend Mandy a text.
Annabel: Did you ever not miss your babies when you left them?
Mandy: All. The. Damn. Time. Everyone needs a break. No shame in enjoying it. Why? Having a bout of mom guilt?
Annabel: Maybe.
