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"That my life is amess." I rest my head on the table and groan. "And that even if this was a rom-com, Brett wouldn't want someone like me."
My sister smiles sweetly across the table at me, then scoops my hand into hers. Giving it a gentle squeeze, she looks up at me and says, "I'm sorry, Sis. But fuck that."
I laugh out loud, eyeing her mostly empty glass. "Excuse me? How much wine have you had?"
"Just this one glass. This isn't Drunk Sheila talking. This is the real Sheila. And I'm getting tired of your moping."
"I am not moping."
Sheila purses her lips. "Are too."
I look away from my sister and to my best friend seated beside me. "Lisa, aren't you going to defend me?"
Lisa chuckles and raises her glass to her lips. "Nope."
Sheila smirks triumphantly. "There are two reasons that you are going to go and call Brett tomorrow morning." She holds up one finger. "The first reason is practical. Like you told us, the Sugar Breeze Bakery is barely holding itself together. You need to work on Tinsley's cakes in a kitchen that won't explode as soon as you turn it on. And Brett has offered to lend a state-of-the-art kitchen to youfor free. You'd be a fool not to take that opportunity! At least until you get Tinsley's down payment and use it to fix up Sugar Breeze."
Lisa swallows her wine. "I agree. It makes sense for the business, Denise."
"And the second reason," Sheila continues, holding up a second finger, "is that Brett is hot."
I flush. "Whether or not that last point is true—"
"It's true," the two of them say together.
I roll my eyes. "It doesn't matter."
"Why not?" Sheila presses.
"Because…." I feel my face starting to burn hot once more. "Because there's no way he's still interested in me now that he knows I lied about who I was."
As I say the words, I watch the sassiness in Sheila's eyes melt away. But now that I've finally said it out loud, the rest of my worries come spilling out.
"I completely embarrassed myself last night," I continue. "I pretended to be this confident, flirtatious woman. But in real life, I'm not any of those things. Brett has his life together. He's a successful businessman. I'm a divorced, middle-aged, single mom who runs a failing bakery. What would someone like Brett want with someone like me?"
Lisa's eyes soften with sympathy. "You don't know that, Denise. Maybe he sees something in you that you don't see in yourself."
Sheila takes my hand for real this time, stroking her thumb comfortingly across the back of it. "He likes you. Believe me—he does."
"He's just trying to be nice," I insist. "He's not offering to help because he likes me. It's because he pities me."
Leaning closer, Lisa wraps an arm around me and lays her head on my shoulder. "I promise that's not true, Denise. We saw the way he was looking at you last night. He asked you out on a date, remember?"
I sigh again. "He and I decided to put that on hold after everything that happened this morning."
"So? The man likes you."
And while I'm not sure I fully believe them, I want to so badly that I let myself give in to their words, even just for a moment.
I don't know why a guy like him would be interested in me. Handsome, successful men like that don't usually go for older, struggling women like me. They want something tiny and flouncy and perky. Someone young and too naïve not to be impressed at everything they do.
Just like Dave wanted, in the end. It wasn't me that he loved. It was the youth that I have now lost.
At the end of the night, Sheila walks me out to my car. Before I can hop in, she throws her arms around me, and I melt against her.
"You don't have to be so tough," Sheila says into my shoulder. "That's what I was trying to show you at your party yesterday. You're allowed to live for yourself. You gave so much up for Sophia, and for that deadbeat you call an ex-husband. You need to learn how to spoil yourself."
"I'm not sure I know how," I admit.
