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I think about that and about happiness.
And I think about how happy I’ve felt since meeting Owen.
I like spending time with him.
I like our big talk, our banter, our sex.
I like his thoughtfulness, his confidence, his natural leadership.
I like more things about Owen than I’ve ever liked about any man.
But most of all, I likeus.
* * *
Owen dropsme at my place early Sunday morning on his way to golf with Bradford. I think we’re both disappointed not to be spending the day together, but I decide it’s probably for the best.
I tend to throw myself into a new guy, spending every spare minute with him. I think maybe I lose myself a little in the process. After taking the last year to figure out who I am without a man, and doing okay at figuring that out, I don’t want to go backward. So, spending today with Dylan and then going to dinner at my parents will be good.
Dylan and I go out for lunch and catch up. We have a few drinks in the sun and I love getting this time with him. He’s in one of his art-making phases, and when Dylan is making art, he’s at his happiest.
After we have lunch and some drinks, we come home, and he plants himself on the sofa to watch a documentary while I sit at the table and work on some gala stuff for mom. Just after four p.m., I receive a text from Adeline.
Adeline: Can you do breakfast at six thirty tomorrow morning?
Charlize: Yes! Perfect.
Adeline: Also, do you mind if I bring a friend? I think you’ll love her.
Charlize: I don’t mind at all.
Adeline: Great. And can you send me the gala date and info? I’ve got a few people who might be able to do it if it works in with their schedule.
Charlize: Will do!! You are a godsend <3
“Who was that?” Dylan asks.
“Adeline.” I told him all about her earlier when I also asked him if he knew anyone who might agree to emcee the gala. “She might have some people who can emcee.”
He pauses the documentary and comes to sit with me. “Babe, you know if you can’t find an emcee for your mom, it won’t be the end of the world, right?”
I smile at the concern I see in his eyes and hear in his voice. “You love me, Dyl.” This is the thing I say to him often. I sometimes wonder if I’m reminding myself that men can come into my life, and love me, and stay.
“You know I do, Char.” He’s looking at me so seriously, like he really wants me to hear whatever it is he has to say. “Just like I know how much your mom’s approval means to you.”
He’s bringing the elephant in the room out. The one I try really hard to avoid.
I allocate a good amount of energy to telling anyone who will listen, including myself, that I don’t need my mother’s approval. It’s not true. I’m not sure if there’s any girl alive who, at some point in her life, didn’t crave her mother’s approval.
I swallow the feelings coming up over what he said. At least, I try to. “I’m never going to get it,” I say softly, almost like I’m willing those words not to be right.
“Does it matter if you don’t?”
I think about that for a long moment. “I think so.” God, I wishthatwasn’t right.
His eyes search mine. “One of these days, you’ll see what I see when I look at you. I can’t fucking wait for that day.” He leans back in his seat and crosses his arms. “I sent some texts to people who might be able to help you find an emcee. Between us all, we’ll find your mom someone great.”
“I love you, too, Dyl.”
