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My lips twitch despite themselves. “Now look what you’ve done.” I try to keep my voice stern, but my mother sees right through me.
She just winks and heads down the hallway. I give my eyes one last wipe and exit the powder room, suddenly not caring about my daughter saying a bad word. She’s laughing, even though her life has seen more upheaval than I ever wanted her to. She said goodbye to her father today, and it broke my heart to see her teary. But she’s laughing now, so maybe one little inappropriate word is a compromise I can live with.
When we move into Candice’s old house, the kids are over the moon. They choose their rooms, and my mother insists that I take the master bedroom even though I think she should have it. We spend the week cleaning, unpacking, and preparing for school to start on the following Monday.
I also end up looking for—and finding—a child therapist for the kids. Seeing Toby’s hostility toward his father and Katie’s tears when she said goodbye to Kevin put my butt in gear. Enough thinking about myself. Enough worrying about a hottie like Mac. Time to do right by my kids.
Candice, at first, tries to refuse to charge us rent. When I insist on having a lease and paying her rent, she relents, but charges us such a small amount for a four-bedroom house that I almost break down and cry.
Once the kids are in school, I’ll get a job and I’ll pay her back somehow—but she’s all loved-up with Blake, building her dream home while Allie prepares for college next year, and I have a feeling she truly doesn’t care. She’s happy, and she’s paying it forward.
Mac and I don’t get to see each other, but we do text frequently over the course of the week. I send him updates on the cat, telling him how Mr. Fuzzles is adjusting to the new home.
Not surprisingly, I don’t mention the last conversation I had with Kevin, and I don’t ask him about the status and size of his junk.
Mac sends me pictures of his pottery projects, of sunsets he sees on his motorcycle rides, and everything in between. Every day I wake up to a good morning text, and every evening he sends me a sweet goodnight. It makes my heart flip every time I see it.
It doesn’t feel wrong to be talking to him. Even though I’m recently divorced and Kevin keeps making snide comments every time he calls the kids or sends me a message, they wash over me without burrowing under my skin. It’s like a switch flipped, and I can see the kind of man he truly is…and rise above it.
By the time Friday rolls around, I haven’t seen Mac in a week, and I feel like I’m about to burst out of my skin. Thank goodness for moving and busy kids. At least I haven’t had time to pine after him too much.
But on Saturday night, when the kids are bathed, have their teeth brushed, and are having story time with Nana, I pick up my phone and stare at the screen. The moving and cleaning is done, the kids have everything they need for school on Monday, and my weekend is free.
I need to woman up and do this.
So, I find Mac’s number and with a trembling hand, hit the call button.
His deep voice makes butterflies explode in my stomach. “Hello, gorgeous.”
“Hi, Mac.”
“I’ve been wondering when you’d call.”
“Doesn’t seem like your phone is broken.” I smile as I talk, my eyes on the gorgeous backyard of Candice’s—no, my—home. I could live here. I could be happy here.
“Wanted you to be sure you wanted to see me.”
“Well, I’m sure.” When did I get so bold? I glance over my shoulder, listening for any little footsteps; hearing nothing, I turn back to the window. Movement near my feet makes me look down to see Mr. Fuzzles circling through my legs before jumping up onto my foot. “I think Mr. Fuzzles can hear your voice. He just came by to say hello, and he usually gives me a wide berth.”
Mac chuckles, and the sound of it makes everything inside me clench. Why did I wait a week to call him, again? I want to feel like this all the time.
Gathering my courage, I take a deep breath. “Look, I was wondering if you wanted to meet up tomorrow?”
Mac groans. “I’m working tomorrow. Have a lot of prep to do before Monday”—what happens Monday, I wonder?—“and the Four Cups pottery order is way bigger than I expected. I told them I’d have samples for them tomorrow, and—”
“Oh, that’s fine.” Heat rushes to my cheeks. I clear my throat. “It’s cool. Whenever you’re free. Or not. Whatever.”
I should have known he’d blow me off. Yes, we’ve been texting, but would a man like him really want to get involved with a single mom? He probably saw the kids’ stuff, saw my mom, and decided it was just too much work to hang out with me. I shouldn’t have called. How embarrassing. How utterly, completely embarrassing.
I’m never dating again.
“Trina.” Mac says my name in a low, rumbly voice, and I have to grip the wall to stop myself collapsing.
“Mm-hmm?”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You will?”
