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“You did it for me,” she says easily. ”Try not to eat so much candy this time,” she warns, and I laugh.
“I’ll make sure to be careful with my candy consumption.”
She smiles at me a bit shyly and then runs off toward her room. I take in a deep breath and close the door again, sitting down on the edge of the bed and eating a spoonful of soup.
I suspect she had some help with this from Derek, but the only reason I’m eating it is because Maggie brought it to me.
I don’t think that Derek meant any harm by cutting things off with me, but I sure feel rejected and terrible. He doesn’t know that was my first time, and now, I’m glad I didn’t tell him.
I sigh and finish sipping my soup, eating a few of the crackers just because Maggie found it important to bring them to me. I didn’t have much of an appetite, anyway.
I lost my virginity to probably the most attractive man I’ve ever seen, but at what cost? He doesn’t want me, thinks I’m just a little girl. I’m a grown woman, and I wish I could find a way to show him that.
Or maybe... there’s a way that I can.
I spend the rest of the week taking care of the kids and then slipping into my room in the evenings, trying to get my courage up, and get a few thin hours of sleep. I set my alarm for five because I know that Derek likes to go into work early, and I put on some natural makeup and curl the ends of my dirty blonde hair. It has gotten a bit longer, a little past my shoulders, and even I have to admit it looks good.
I slide on a pair of denim shorts that I know show off my legs but aren't too revealing, and a low-cut tank top. It looks casual, but sexy. I pout at the mirror, looking at my makeup, and for once, it doesn't feel like I’m a kid playing dress up.
I look good. Pretty, even. I’ve always thought of myself as plain, but I clean up pretty nice. I take in a deep breath and start downstairs.
I’m right on the money because Derek is in the living room, putting on his suit jacket and grabbing his watch and keys from the table near the door.
He looks up as I descend the stairs and I swear I can see him do a double take.
“Kenna?”
I look at him. “Mm?”
“You look...you look great,” he stutters.
I smile. “Thanks. I have plans with a friend tonight.”
Derek’s face goes instantly blank. “A friend?”
I nod. “Mmhm,” I murmur, as if it’s no big deal, and walk into the kitchen to start making the kids some of the Mickey Mouse pancakes they’ve been obsessed with all week.
Derek usually would be walking out the door by now, but instead, he follows me into the kitchen.
“What kind of friend?”
“Old friend from college,” I say easily, bending down to take a pan out of the cabinet. I reach up to grab a mixing bowl but can’t quite reach, my shirt riding up to expose part of my belly.
Derek clears his throat, a nervous habit I’ve noticed of his, and reaches up to grab it for me, his arm brushing against me as he hands it to me.
“Thank you,” I mutter, looking up into his eyes, and Derek stares at my mouth for a long moment.
“A friend,” he repeats.
I frown. “Why? Did you need me to watch the kids tonight?”
Derek slowly shakes his head. “No. No, I’ll be home at six,” he says under his breath, as if talking to himself.
I smile. “Okay, then. I’ll tell my friend I’ll be ready at six.”
“They’re picking you up? Like a...like a date?” he asks, and I can feel his eyes on me as I begin to mix up the pancakes.
My friend’s name is Cherie and she’s my best friend from high school, but Derek doesn’t have to know that.
