Chapter 4
OLIVIA
“I am so proud of you for going out and putting yourself out there.” My mom sips her glass of red, smiling at me with flushed cheeks.
It’s Saturday and we decided to go to brunch, shop, and eat at one of our favorite restaurants. It’s been awhile since we’ve spent the day together, and since Dr. Warrick gave me my birthday off, it means I also got a long weekend.
Mom and I weren’t ready to stop having fun today, so we came back to my apartment, popped a bottle of wine, got a little tipsy, and for some reason, she helped me set up an online dating profile.
I’m regretting it.
There’s so much regret.
And there’s no turning back now. Not with how happy my mom is, her eyes watering as if I’m about to go meet the love of my life.
“Mom, it’s just a date. Nothing more. Don’t read into it, okay?”
“I know. I can’t help it. I want you to meet someone who will love you.”
I swipe a light pink lipstick on, then rub my lips together. “You want grandkids.”
She downs the rest of her wine, then pours herself another glass. “There’s nothing wrong with hoping for the future, Olivia.”
“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you that I won’t be getting pregnant on the first date, Mom.”
She holds a hand to her chest, pouting her bottom lip. “A mom can dream.”
I roll my eyes with a smile, checking the app to see if my date has messaged to cancel.
A girl can dream.
I don’t know why I’m so nervous. I haven’t dated since my breakup, and even before my ex, I didn’t really date.
My mom is always telling me to put myself out there more, and I know it’s because she doesn’t want me to be alone.
She never wanted me to be alone growing up.
She wanted to have more kids, but when Dad died, she stopped caring about her future, about her wants, her dreams, and she threw every ounce of energy into making sure I was happy.
The least I can do is go on a few dates if it brings her relief.
“You know, Mom, I don’t want you to be alone either.” I wrap my arms around her from the back, pressing my chin on her shoulder as she stares into her wine. “It’s okay to be happy for yourself too.”
Her hand pats mine. “I’m fine, sweetie. I had my happily ever after. It’s your turn.”
I step to the side, taking her hands in mine and meeting her watery gaze.
“Mom. Happily ever afters aren’t a once-in-a-lifetime thing.
They can happen as many times as you want them to.
You deserve more than one, and Dad would want that for you.
He wouldn’t ever want you to be alone. You’re too good, Mom.
There’s someone out there that deserves how hard you love.
There’s someone out there who will love you as soft as you need them to.
” I take her wine glass and place it on the counter.
“If I’m trying, you have to promise me you’ll try too. ”
She wipes her cheeks and chuckles. “Liv, I don’t know how to date. It’s been too long. I don’t know how to be. I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“How about the dating app you made me sign up for?” I tease.
She shakes her head. “No. Oh my gosh, that’s for young people. I couldn’t.”
“You can. Apps are for everyone. I’m just saying, will you think about it for me?”
She blows out a breath, taking another gulp of wine. “Fine.”
I squeal, clapping my hands in celebration.
“Only that I will think about it, okay?” Mom spins her wedding ring on her finger. The gold glints against the kitchen light, sadness slowly pulling the smile from her face.
Mom took off her engagement ring ages ago, but she left the wedding band on.
It’s nothing fancy—a simple gold band that cost fifty bucks since that’s all they could afford back then.
She never takes it off. I know it’s because there’s a part of her that feels like she can’t—that she would be betraying Dad—but I know there’s another part too.
She’s afraid.
Taking off the wedding band would be saying that she’s truly ready to put the past in the past, and finally letting their love rest.
“Thinking about it is all I’m asking for.” I kiss her cheek, then step back, wanting to change the energy in the room. “Okay. What do you think? Is this first-date appropriate? Does this scream I met you on a dating app? Do I look desperate?” I give her a spin, hoping she approves.
My mom is my best friend. Victoria and Amber are my best friends too, but my mom is my number one.
“It’s perfect. I think you look beautiful, and if that man isn’t interested then he’s a fool.”
“You have to say that. You’re my mom.”
“I don’t have to say shit. I dislike plenty of your clothes, but I like this. It’s a simple dark-green dress that’s perfect with your skin tone. It really makes your red hair brighter.”
That’s what I like about it too. It’s hard finding dresses since I’m so short; even the ones that aren’t meant to be long are long on my five-foot-two frame.
Not this dress—it stops just below my knee.
The material is a soft velvet that feels good under my nervous fingertips.
There’s a small slit at the thigh that only goes up a few inches.
The neckline is my favorite. It doesn’t really show cleavage, but shows just enough skin to be sexy without being revealing.
I paired it with gold earrings that dangle long spikes that nearly touch my shoulders, and heels to match.
I have a light flush across my cheeks that emphasizes the blush I put on. Hopefully, I calm down by the time I get to the restaurant where I’m meeting my date. My heart is racing. No wonder Mom hasn’t gone on dates. This is nerve-racking and I’m not sure if it’s worth it.
“You look beautiful, Liv,” she says with so much love, it has emotion choking in my throat. “I’ll be right here for when you get back because there’s no way I’m driving after having a bottle of wine.”
I snicker, snagging my purse from the nearby coffee table.
“And I’m your emergency contact. Remember to call me if it’s really going sideways.”
“I’m not going to forget the best rule of dating. You’re always my out.” I kiss her cheek and head to the front door, snagging my plum-colored peacoat from the coatrack.
I check my phone again to see a message from my date, Brian: I’m here a little early. I was nervous I’d be late. Would you want me to order you a drink?
I smile, my nerves unraveling when I see his text. Maybe this date won’t be too bad after all. That’s thoughtful of him.
Me: A gin and tonic with extra lime, please. Thank you so much. I’ll be there in ten minutes.
“Alright, Mom. I’m leaving. I love you. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
“I can’t wait to hear all about it! Now, I get to watch my show in peace without your commentary.”
I roll my eyes as I open the door. “Well, if they weren’t so—”
She throws her slipper at me and I’m out the door, slamming it shut before it can hit me. I toss my head back and laugh, the sound echoing off the walls of the apartment complex. Slipping on my coat, I lock the door behind me and check my phone again to see a message from Brian waiting.
Brian: Will do. It’s a little busy here so hopefully your drink is ready when you arrive. You are still coming, right? Sorry, I’m still a little nervous.
I smile from ear to ear, relieved that he’s just as worried as I am about this date.
I lean against the wall to text.
Me: I’m on my way. I promise I’m still coming. <3.
I nibble on my bottom lip, debating if I want to send the heart. It might be too much. I decide to delete it, then press send without it.
As I walk down the steps, Mr. Wrong Number comes to mind.
I would love to be going on a date with him instead, but the age gap is an issue for him.
It’s a shame, because never in my life would I miss the chance to have another conversation with him.
He seems to be the kind of guy that I can talk about anything with, and it would come effortlessly.
How many people come into someone’s life where that happens?
When I get to the bottom of the steps, I glance at my phone, the screen bright in the early night, and I click on the message thread between us. My cheeks flame when the first image that pops up is the one of him stroking his cock.
“Jesus,” I breathe, taking a quick glance left and right.
I should not be looking at this. If I were smart, I would delete the entire thread with Mr. Wrong Number, but every time I try, I can’t.
I love looking at the pictures and videos we shared.
I love listening to his moans and gasps, the way he leaks so much precum that it shines off the tip.
He loves to swipe his thumb across the spongy head, then rub it on his shaft for lubrication.
He has such a thick cock. It’s long with a slight curve, and in this photo, it almost looks angry. The crown is flushed and the veins are protruding up the length.
A loud laugh from the other side of the parking lot has me looking up as if I’m about to get caught doing something I’m not supposed to be.
I guess I am.
I should have deleted these damn messages, and now I’m obsessing over them, wishing he was either my age, or I was his.
God.
I bet he’d date my mom.
Clicking the side button, I forget about Mr. Too Old For Me, and tuck him in my pocket where he will be for the remainder of the night. I have a date.
And I need to make the best of it.
My feet are killing me after walking two blocks so I could get a decent free parking spot. I stop in front of the entrance of the restaurant with a minute to spare and decide to use the time to take a few seconds to myself.
The windows are floor-to-ceiling and I’m able to see inside.
Brian was right—it is crowded. There’s a nice bar in the back to the left, and every stool is taken.
Booths line the wall and windows while tables are strategically placed to fill the rest of the space.
The lighting is low, setting the mood, and the waiters are dressed in black-on-black uniforms.
The nerves are back full force.