Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“Well then, by all means, carry on,” I said, waving toward the living room, making Daphne roll her eyes and Allie give me one of those tight smiles that said she thought I was being cringy, but was trying to be nice about it. “How about you guys order some greasy brain food?” I suggested, going into the kitchen to our menu drawer and bringing a stack over to them.
I promised myself that I would go off to my room eventually, not hover like one of those needy moms who wanted to be involved with all the stuff the kids did.
But before I could do that, as the girls debated Italian, Mexican, or Chinese, my phone beeped.
Right there on the coffee table where they could see it.
And Callow’s name flashed across the screen.
My heart leapt as I tried to reach for it casually, instead of snatching it up like a damn lifeline.
Though there was no way to hide who it was from the girls. Who each shared a mischievous glance, lips pressed tightly together to hide their excitement that their plans were clearly working.
My heartbeat was hammering as I swiped my passcode in before bringing up the text.
And there it was.
An invitation to a second date.
I wasn’t sure I’d felt so excited since I was a teenager as I shot off my reply before setting down my phone, hoping I was playing it off casually.
I should have known better. Daphne knew me too well.
“So… where’s he taking you?” she asked, voice singsong as she tapped one of the menus on her jean-clad thigh.
“It’s… a surprise,” I told her, watching as both the girls shared another look, eyes bright. “But seeing as I’m supposed to dress in layers, I’m assuming it’s outdoors,” I said.
“When?” Daphne asked.
“Thursday at seven.”
“Seven at night?” Allie asked, eyes round.
“Of course seven at night, Grandma,” Daphne teased her friend with an eye roll and a smile as she tossed a throw pillow at her. “Who has a date at seven in the morning?”
“But it will be dark outside,” Allie said.
“That might be a problem if they were werewolves and it was a full moon,” Daphne said, shaking her head.
“But it could be dangerous,” Allie, our sweet little Anxious Annie pressed.
“And Callow is a one-percent biker who likely has more than one gun strapped on him,” Daphne added. “Mom will be perfectly safe. So, what are you going to wear?” she asked, looking at me.
“Layers,” I said. Being particularly cold-sensitive, I knew I would ruin the date by trembling if I didn’t have at least a long sleeve, sweater, and a light jacket on. Not exactly a great date look. But Callow was used to seeing me at my, you know, usual level of attractiveness. It wasn’t like he was expecting me to show up looking like a bombshell.
“Ugh,” Daphne said, rolling her eyes. “A dress would be better.”
“I own exactly two dresses,” I reminded her. “And one is my black funeral and work meeting dress. Besides, it’s dropping to the forties at night lately.”
“Come on, Al,” Daphne said with a sigh as she unfolded off of the couch. “Let’s go find something passibly hot,” she said, handing me the pizza menu. “Sicilian, please,” she said.
“Allie, veggie?” I asked, knowing she would never actually ask for it even though it was what she always ordered.
“Yes, please,” she said, and I watched as the girls walked into my bedroom.
I knew I’d walk in there to find just about every item of clothing I owned strewn across my bed when I called them for pizza. But, honestly, I was glad for the assist.
My wardrobe consisted mostly of work uniforms and then casual stuff I could run around and do errands, clean, or do laundry in. So mainly jeans, yoga pants, old t-shirts, or oversized sweatshirts. I honestly didn’t remember the last time I’d given what I was wearing more than two minutes of thought.
Who was I trying to impress anyway?
I resisted the urge to keep texting Callow after we set up our plans for the date. I felt really out of my depth on how to handle dating after so many years. Who texted who first? How much was too much? What was the line between interested and desperate? How could I make sure I didn’t accidentally stumble onto the wrong side of it?
I figured that less was always more with this sort of thing. Maybe it was out of vogue to say so, but I felt like men liked to do the chasing instinctively. So letting him come to me was going to be my plan until things progressed to a place where I felt like I was on more solid footing.
Besides, I’d always preferred face-to-face interactions over texting.
By the end of the night, all three of us girls were absolutely loaded to the gills with pizza. Daphne had half of her essay written. And, most importantly of all, I had an outfit for my date.