Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
“Oh, that’s great.”
I nodded. “And are you married, kids?”
“I have three boys,” he told me. “And yes, married.”
“Me too—I mean, the married. I have one of each, one girl, one boy.”
His smile faded just a bit. “Being a father is a gift, don’t you agree?”
“I do.”
He sighed deeply. “You know, seeing so many people younger than me, in different professions, having both children and transparency, makes me jealous now and then, but all in all, the trade-offs have been worth it.”
He lost me, but since he reached for my shoulder and then squeezed gently, I got the feeling he was wrapping up his stroll down memory lane.
“It was really good to see you,” he said, tipping his head as he looked at me. “I’ve thought of you often over the years. I always considered you the one that got away.”
“That’s very kind,” I replied. “And when I start needing lots of work done—which could be any day now—I’ll look you up.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so, Jory. You were stunning then, and you still are.”
I scoffed. “Once a player, huh?”
His chuckle was warm. “Perhaps, but it’s true too.”
We shook hands, and he passed me a business card, which was thoughtful, and then he announced he was off after wishing me a Merry Christmas.
Pocketing the card, I continued to look for sweaters for my son as my phone started pinging. A selfie of Hannah in the changing room, and then the question, “Do you think this dress is too revealing, because someone around here thinks I need to wear a parka over it!”
And then the next and the next and the next. Apparently, Sam and his daughter were having a difference of opinion on what constituted an appropriate dress.
Reaching the dressing room, still chuckling, I heard others talking as I passed a door.
“I like you in this.”
“You like me naked best.”
“No argument,” came the murmur, and then the clear sounds of canoodling, and I smiled as I walked by. Flirting in the fitting room was always fun.
Tapping on the door to my son’s stall, there was another ping and another dress, this one in a lot of black lace, up to her chin.
What is that? I texted back.
Acceptable, came the reply.
“Oh God,” I groaned to myself and typed back absolutely not in all caps.
“Password,” Kola said from inside the stall.
“Open the door or you’re grounded,” I threatened him.
His snicker made me smile, and he opened the door to reveal an outfit that looked amazing on him.
“Wow,” I said. I really liked the chinos, T-shirt, and cardigan, but at the same time, I was sad. He looked so grown up, and soon, very soon, he’d be graduating and then leaving home. At this time next year, he’d be flying home from California, where he’d be going to school, far away from me. “You look great,” I managed to choke out.
He shook his head and walked out and wrapped me in his arms, patting my back. “I’m still here,” he soothed me. “I’m not gone yet.”
I could feel my eyes filling. I was really not dealing with the whole Kola-going-off-to-Stanford thing well.
“Jory?”
Sniffling, I turned to look and saw Trip standing at the stall I’d passed a few moments ago. “Hey, so if it’s not weird meeting in a fitting room, I’d love to meet your husband,” I said, smiling. “I promise the waterworks are under control.”
The man who leaned his head out of the stall, though, was not what I expected. He was young. Very young. Possibly only a couple years older than my son. I stood there, unsure, trying to make sense of what I was looking at.
“This is amazing,” Trip said, walking over to me. “I’ve never had a friend I could share this part of my life with, and now,” he said, gesturing at Kola, “are you two doing anything right now? Griffin and I would love to have lunch.”
I looked at Kola, and then back at Trip, and then at Griffin, who was very clearly checking me out, looking me up and down, and then back at Trip.
“I’m—who is that?” I pointed at Griffin.
“Who is this?” he asked me, his smile leering and playful.
And it hit me suddenly, what he was implying. I stepped protectively in front of Kola. “This is my son,” I told him. “My seventeen-year-old son. I’m so confused. I thought you were married.”
He squinted at me. “I am married. I thought you were too.”
“I am,” I told him. “To my husband.”
His gasp was loud, and then his words were nearly breathless. “You married a man?”
“He loves a man,” Kola chimed in. “So of course he married one. Who else would he marry?”
Trip just stood there, openmouthed, utterly stunned.
“What’s going on?” Kola asked me.
“Here, just––” I passed him the clothes I’d picked out for him. “––try those on, okay, buddy? I’ll be right back,” I said and then charged out of the fitting room.