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Mr. Fuzzles’s fur is silky-soft as I run my hand along his body in smooth, even strokes. I lean back on the sofa, trying to dispel the image of Mac on my doorstep.
How did I get here? How did I end up caught between these two men when I’m supposed to be divorced and living my best life?
In an interview, goddess and legendary singer Cher once said that men are like dessert. “I adore dessert; I love men,” she said. “But you don’t really need them to live.”
Why am I ping-ponging between these two men like it’s my job? Why am I worried about the look on Kevin’s face when I brought flowers into my house? Why do I feel guilty about the look on Mac’s face when he realized the father of my children was inside my house?
I don’t need these men to live. I’ve been fine without Kevin. Even though he’s recently reminded me of all the reasons I first fell in love with him, I still viscerally remember how it felt to have to carry our family on my shoulders when we were married.
And I don’t need Mac. As wonderful as he makes me feel, I don’t need him to push me away, then steal lingering glances at me whenever I’m close. I don’t need some weird, awkward flirtation with my daughter’s second grade teacher.
What I need is to stand on my own two feet. I need to be a mother to my children and a woman they’ll be proud of when they grow up.
Pushing myself up from the couch, I give those flowers one last glance and march to the door. I stuff my feet in the first shoes I see—a pair of sneakers that are usually reserved for yardwork—and grab the keys from the bowl by the door. Then I’m in my car (a hunk of junk, sure, but a car I bought on my own, without a man, and negotiated it down from the dealer’s first offer by fifteen percent, by the way!) and I’m driving toward the center of Heart’s Cove.
The lights are on in the library above Four Cups. I park the car and jump out, kick the door closed, lock it, then take the steps two at a time. When I burst through the door, my sister and her three friends are lounging on the sofas around the room, drinking tea and laughing. As usual.
They all stare at me in the doorway.
“I don’t need men in my life,” I announce. “Not Mac, and definitely not Kevin. I can do this on my own.”
“Hear, hear!” Jen lifts her mug. “They’re more trouble than they’re worth.”
Candice sits up, studying my face. “Although I admire your strength, I’m wondering where it’s coming from. And—is that a black eye forming on your face?”
Everyone stiffens.
I wave a hand. “Mac kicked a soccer ball in my face. My nose isn’t broken. It’s fine.”
“He did what?” Simone screeches.
“When? How?” Fiona frowns as she stares at me.
“Forget about that! I just had an epiphany. I’ve been running around after men for years and I don’t need them. They’re just dessert!”
Simone grins. “Cher. Classic.”
I take a deep breath, open my mouth, and start talking without even knowing what I’m going to say. All I know is I need to do something. I need to be someone I’m proud of. I need to push all thoughts of Mac to the deepest, darkest part of my mind and lock him there, or maybe just let them fly free. I need to acknowledge that Kevin has some good qualities, but he’s not the man for me.
I need to focus on the main course. Me.
But what comes out of my mouth startles me. “I’m starting a personal styling business,” I announce, then clamp my mouth shut because, well, where the hell did that come from?
Four surprised faces look back at me, but they’re soon jumping up to offer me all kinds of congratulations and encouragements. Simone offers to help me with a website and social media. Fiona volunteers herself as my first customer. They tell me I can put flyers on the café counter if I want to.
I giggle, then clamp my hand over my mouth, then give my sister a big hug.
I said it. I’m going to try it. I’m going to start my own business, and even if I crash and burn, at least I’ll know I had the guts to give it a go.
A mug of tea appears in front of me, along with a plate full of fudgy brownies that Jen tells me are still in development. I sit down at a table and let Simone sketch out website ideas, my mind reeling.
I don’t know what I expected when I ran up here and announced that I was swearing off men. But maybe this idea has been taking root in my mind for weeks, months. And it fills me with a bright, effervescent sort of excitement.
I mean, yes, I’ve always wanted to do it. But starting my own business? Going out on my own? When I was married to Kevin, it never seemed possible. I was The Mom. I was the person who took care of everything at home, of dentist appointments and doctors’ visits. I bought presents for every family event—Kevin’s and mine—and dealt with schools and daycares and almost everything child-related.
I couldn’t have started a business even if I tried.
So why does this feel like it’s actually possible now? Why does it feel like if I don’t try, I’ll regret it forever?
