AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Me too,” I say. I think I actually mean it. Things are looking up.
Ethan dashes off and I watch him run. I wonder if we could rekindle the flames of our youth. But I also wonder how much he has actually changed and if he’s the same old possessive Ethan. For now, I’m just going to enjoy it and let things unfold.
* * *
Back at home, I open up my laptop and get to updating my resume. I need to highlight all I’ve accomplished and also show what I can bring to the table at an entertainment firm.
As I ponder what I can spotlight as an entertainment PR success, I wonder if any of my past boy band chasing escapades count. Surely, designing a sign on poster board that got featured on music television the day Gemma and I stood outside the TV studio for 5 Leo Hearts’ appearance counts as creativity and recognition. Competition among fans was tough those days. Everyone wanted to stand out. Some made signs, others, gift baskets. Gemma and I did it all. We conquered the toughest crowds, pushing our way to the front of the stage, snuck cameras in venues, and even survived gum getting thrown in our hair by other fans.
The one thing we always took pride in was that we were not the girls who set out to sleep with the band. That was never our intention and we made sure we didn’t associate with the groupies. Gemma and I were simply dedicated fans who wanted to meet our favorite singers, the guys whose music made us happy even on sad days. We cherished their songs, which connected us to our generation, and made us hope for a love like the songs they crooned. You know, totally attainable things in a teenage girl’s dream.
After a little while of focusing on my actual career experience and talents, my resume is updated and sent off to Imani. I figure it’s a good idea to update my profile on my professional networking page, too. Because I don’t want to put all my eggs in one basket, I search job openings and see if there are any positions I might want to apply for, but there’s nothing. I really hope Imani’s team is impressed once they read my resume. I’ll take this job, even if it means a step down in ranks. Passion and purpose are more important than a title.
Titles are so annoying. Right now, mine are “jobless” and “divorced.” I hope I don’t have to go to a doctor’s office anytime soon because circling those boxes on check-in forms will not be fun. Why are there no petitions to remove marital status off forms where your relationship is no one’s business? All they really need is your emergency contact name and number. If they’re going to put that question, they should at least leave a line for comments. This way, I can write, “Send hot, emotionally, and financially stable men my way.”
As I walk into my living room to start unpacking a few pictures I want to hang on the walls, my phone dings. It’s a text message from Ethan. He’s wasting no time in contacting me.
Ethan: Hey there! I was just thinking about running into you this morning. I don’t want to be too forward, but I’d love to spend more time catching up. Would you like to have dinner with me tonight? I’ll cook.
Whoa. My first reaction is to think heisbold for asking me over to his place on our first… is it a date? But then again, we already had our tongues in each other’s mouths 1,000 times before, so this really isn’t a big deal. It’s just two people who dated when they were teenagers and are now old enough to own their homes, so they can invite guests over for proper meals that they cook.
I don’t want to appear too eager, so I wait ten minutes before I respond. It’s just enough time to make him question if he was indeed too forward, but to also create the illusion that I’m not totally glued to my phone hoping for human interaction.
To pass the time, I check the social media group I recently joined for young divorced women, called Trash the Dress. I read an article about it online and it sounded like a really empowering group that is right up my alley, so I requested to join. I’ve been enjoying following the posts. Some are basic divorce conversations, like how to navigate child custody agreements, but there’s also a special camaraderie among these women as they cheer each other on through moves, new jobs, and dating. So far, I’ve made quite a few new close friends. I wonder if I should make a post about Ethan, but decide that I should wait until I actually have more to share.
Enough time has passed for me to respond to his message.
Me: Sounds great. Hope your skills in the kitchen are as good as they were on the football field.
I send my response to tease and hope Ethan catches that I’m open to concluding dinner with dessert.
Ethan: Much better with my hands in the kitchen than on a football, if you can believe it.
I’m slightly blushing at the thought of making out with Ethan in his kitchen. It’s fun to flirt again, to feel like someone desires me. I want to keep calm, but I can’t. I’m going on my first post-divorce date.
Trash the Dress Online Chat
Tori:Can you believe lumberjack dude tried to booty call me last night? As if.
Leanne:I’d give anything to be a guy’s booty call right now.
Alexandra:I’m swearing off sex until I meet my next husband.
Cora:@Alexandra stop punishing yourself for cheating!
CAILIN MCCALL DITCHES EX-HUSBAND FOR—GASP!—OLD BOYFRIEND
CAILIN
After throwinghalf of my clothes across the bedroom, I give up. I can’t find my favorite shirt. It’s a cornflower blue color and just oversized enough so that it drapes off my shoulders. It would have been perfect for dinner tonight, but since it has disappeared, I pick up my keys and head over to Gemma’s boutique, Boho Bliss + Co., with hopes of scoring the perfect top. What else can a young, recently divorced woman wear to give the illusion that she isn’t trying really hard to convince herself she’s still got it?
It’s been a while since I’ve been inside the store. I’m greeted by the smell of sweet candles. They aren’t lit, but they smell so good, they just emit deliciousness. It’s a mix of coconut, rose, vanilla, and cinnamon. Gemma’s store has a bright white and airy atmosphere accentuated by lush green plants. It feels like southern California in New Jersey. The store displays jewelry, home décor gifts, and carefully curated artisan clothes. Everything in stock appears to be specifically chosen, and knowing Gemma, she spent hours selecting each item.
“Hey,” I say to Gemma. I walk past a table filled with NJ-shaped wooden cutting boards and debate getting one.
“Cailin!” Gemma peers out from behind the register. “What are you doing here? I didn’t know you were coming? How is it being back in town today?”
So many questions. Typical Gemma. “It’s good. I ran into Ethan this morning when I took a walk at the lake.”
