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I snort because she isn’t wrong. “But still. There’s also Kellen. I don’t know what to do about him. He’s nice, and we had a good time the other night.” This argument is weak, and I know it.
She studies me, her knowing eyes peeling back my reserves. “If Kellen had a chance, we wouldn’t be here talking about another man. It would be an easy decision. It’s okay to be unsure. Grey isn’t going anywhere. Trust me on this. Just don’t wait too long.” She waves a hand around us. “Before you know it, life is over and you’ve lost your shot. There will never be the right time for anything and there will always be risks. Sometimes you gotta jump and trust you’re more ready than you give yourself credit for.”
I mull over it and decide she and Rita are right. I avoid any sort of plans, any commitment because I’m afraid of disappointment. No expectations means no disappointment. My mother has many expectations of me and I have met none to her satisfaction except for my career. Failed dates taught me not to expect much and, in a way, I’ve given up.
What if I’m the disappointment? Not enough for a man like Greyson?
Needing to move on from this conversation before I decide to screw it all and book a year-long trip to Barcelona complete with a hot, uncomplicated cabana boy, I stand and snag her to my side, pointing to the mirror, masking my insecurities with a fake smile.
“For now, let’s set aside my sad excuse for a love life and admire the strong women facing us in the mirror.”
Paired with six-inch heels, I’ll walk through that banquet hall with confidence and all the sex appeal this single momma can muster. God knows I need all the assurance I can get at these functions.
We use all the money raised in its entirety for this foundation. Now, I’m not trying to buy donations with my catwalk strut. Sometimes a woman just wants to ooze presence and let all the men know she’s got it handled. Her place is at the head of the table with all eyes on her, taking orders from her, not from those with Y chromosomes. Women in power are intimidating and beautiful and should own it.
That’s how I feel in this dress. Like my femininity is not this delicate structure innately keeping us bound to our knees, but loud and proud and profoundly exquisite.
And yes, I cannot deny if I render Grey speechless, I’ll swell with the tiniest bit of glee.
