3. Chapter Three
Chapter Three
Allie
Thwack.
Something soft smacks the back of my head, and I jolt awake, flailing for whatever just hit me. My hand lands on a pillow, and I grunt, tossing it to the floor before squinting up to see who my would-be assailant is.
Everything is still blurry, but I can make out Ana standing over me with her arms crossed over her chest, and her hip popped out.
I blink a few times, still struggling to get my eyes to understand it’s time to be awake and not drift back to sleep.
“ What time is it? ” I mumble through a yawn.
“Almost noon,” she says, a little too cheerfully for someone who just committed pillow assault.
My body springs me forward before my brain can catch up and the room shifts around me.
“Noon?” I shriek. “Why didn’t you wake me?!”
Ana shrugs and walks farther into the room. She picks up the pillow and launches it at me again. “Well… since someone was so tired they forgot my wine last night, I figured they really needed their beauty sleep.”
She flashes me a grin before turning away.
Right before disappearing, she glances back. “Relax. We’ve got time,” she says, as if that magically erases the panic already clawing its way up my spine.
When the door clicks shut again, I fall back into the bed with a loud, frustrated groan.
Of course the one day my body actually decides to let me sleep in is the day I really shouldn’t.
Somehow, even with the extra sleep, my body still feels weighed down like I’m currently melting into the mattress with absolutely no will to leave it.
Then it hits me. Today is Bottom Line day.
Which means meet-and-greet round two with Jax freaking Owens.
My brain does a full somersault, straight into freefall mode until I’m back to the wine aisle, only inches away from those ridiculously beautiful blue eyes and a dimple that tests how strong my knees are.
Then come along the thoughts of… will he remember me? And I honestly can’t say if I hope he does, or if I’d rather he forget that I practically mowed him down. The bigger part of me is begging to be remembered—even just once. For someone to actually see me and remember me for something good.
Bad first impressions always cling to me like a damn shadow.
As a mother, I’m known as the protective mama bear.
Everyone knows better than to mess with my girls.
Then, as a nurse, I stand my ground and don’t tolerate abuse in the office.
I refuse to rush patients just because a provider says to.
Because at the end of the day, people need someone to truly listen, and I won’t compromise on that.
But today? Today is a day I need to make a good impression. Not just because it’s my favorite band, but because deep down, I know I’m a good person. I care. I show up. So I deserve to be seen for who I really am and not as some mumbling, nervous wreck who can’t string together a proper sentence.
I slide off the bed and pad my way into the walk-in closet to search for the outfit I still can’t believe I packed. It’s not overly revealing, but just bold enough that I still think I have no business wearing it.
But hey, that’s what spending six years with someone who couldn’t throw you a single compliment will do to you. Your self-confidence depletes over time, and when you finally say you’ve had enough and leave, it doesn’t just come rushing back.
You have to fight to get it back and continue fighting to keep it. Or, in my case, have a friend like Ana who throws it in your suitcase whether you like it or not and tells you to suck it up.
When I reach the end of the closet, my eyes land on it.
The black fabric hangs, staring back at me tauntingly. I step in closer and run my fingers along the smooth material, trying to figure out how I’m even going to fit into it. I know I’ve lost weight in the last few years, but what if it’s not enough?
Oh my god… what if I end up having to go in sweats?
“Are you still fighting the pants?” Ana says from behind, making me jump out of my skin.
I drop the fabric between my fingers and watch it sway on the hanger like a pendulum. When I turn around, I find both her and Nora peering into my closet with teasing smiles and wide eyes.
“Come on, Allie,” Nora says, pushing past me to grab the hanger from the rod and forces it into my hands. “You have to wear them.”
The black leather spills over my arms like liquid, and I can’t help but just stare at it.
I haven’t worn these pants since before I had Lydia, and let’s just say motherhood has not been kind to my hips in the slightest. Just thinking about squeezing myself into these makes me want to shrivel up and hide in bed for the rest of the night.
“Alright,” Ana says, placing a firm hand on my shoulder. “Stop overthinking and just do it.”
I give her a tight, half-hearted smile and nod. There’s no point in arguing since this is one of those battles that I’m just not going to win.
Dragging my feet into the bathroom, I peel off my clothes and step into the slick, cold fabric that already feels too foreign against my skin. Once everything is more or less where it’s supposed to be, I reluctantly look up at the mirror.
I carefully turn from side to side, inspecting myself for any sign of imperfection, that way I can notice them before anyone else.
Except… I find nothing .
The pants hug my body in a way that almost makes me forget I ever hated how it looked.
My mom pouch—the one that’s been my plus-one for five years and counting, the one I’ve tried to hide under oversized sweaters or shoved inside every pair of leggings—is gone.
Sucked into the fabric so tightly you’d never even know it existed in the first place.
My hand rubs across my stomach, and I blink back the tears that already sting. For a second, I almost feel strange without it.
Then the relief washes over me like a wave.
For the first time in too long, I feel truly... beautiful.
Right now, I’m not just Allison Windsor, single mom of two with a caffeine addiction strong enough to survive on an hour of sleep for the entire month.
But instead, I’m Allie Windsor, single mother to two incredible little girls, with the confidence to blow everyone in her path away—leather pants and all.
The way it should be.
A soft knock at the door steals my attention, and my eyes flick over to it.
“Come in,” I call, turning back to the mirror for one last hair fluff.
The door creaks open, and Ana and Nora peek their heads in before slowly stepping inside.
“See!” Nora says, throwing her hands toward the pants like she just won a bet. “I told you they’d look amazing.”
Ana lifts her fingers to her lips, then gives me a slow, dramatic chef’s kiss. “ Perfección ,” she says with a soft smile, placing her hands over her heart like a proud mom.
My eyes meet my reflection in the mirror again, and I don’t miss the rosy-pink blush already coloring my cheeks. But this time, I don’t just see confidence pouring out of me. I can actually feel it. And even more than that, I believe in it this time.
Now I need to embrace it and reclaim the version of myself I thought I’d lost forever.
Of course,first comes the hard part. Heading into the city and holding onto this mindset without retreating into my cozy, familiar little turtle shell.
One step at a time, Allie.
Waiting in line for a concert wouldn’t be so bad… if they had chairs.
My arms are glued to my sides thanks to the heat, and my ankles are already throbbing after standing in the same spot for over two hours. I shift from foot to foot, trying to ignore the slow burn crawling up my calves.
This must be what Black Friday feels like. Except, of course, instead of flat-screen TVs, we’re getting whiplash and concussions.
And the crowd? Way bigger than I expected. When I first became a fan, their following was small, with maybe a few hundred at most. Now? It’s like the world decided to show up the second they signed a deal.
And I think that’s beautiful.
My phone buzzes deep in my purse, the vibration ten times louder than necessary since it’s wedged between a mountain of loose change and a keychain with one too many keys on it. I dig it out, flip it around—and my heart nearly leaps out of my chest.
A picture of Charlotte hugging Lydia in front of a lake fills my screen. Their wet, auburn hair clings to their shoulders while they smile widely for the camera, and my heart squeezes tight as if someone’s using it as a stress ball.
God , I miss them.
I’d give anything to hear their laughter right now. That sure would beat listening to the girl next to me go on about how she’d gladly let Jax spit in her mouth.
Classy .
Then a message pops up beneath the photo:
Trevor
Spent the day at the lake. We miss you!
I frown, rereading the message… then read it five more times just to make sure I’m not seeing things.
What does he mean by “ we ”?
“Hey,” Ana says, nudging my elbow. “You okay?”
I glance up, struggling to find the words.
“Yeah, I’m… fine?” It comes out more like a question, but honestly, am I?
Ana and Nora are both watching me now, their brows drawn tight with silent questions. I shift my weight, phone still clutched in my hand, before finally handing it over to Ana.
I point to the screen. “Does that say—”
“What the hell does he mean by ‘we’?” Ana shrieks, cutting me off while squinting at the screen.
I slap my arms against my sides. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to figure out!”
I want to believe he’s talking about the girls, that they miss me. But he has to know how it sounds, right? Because to me it sounds like he’s trying to worm his way back in— again .
But it’s too late for that.
I used to dream about our life together. The white picket fence. The girls running through sprinklers in the yard while we watched from the porch. Kitchen dances while we waited for the timer.
But that was my dream. Never his.
Alright, that’s enough. I toss that thought straight into the mental recycle bin.