Chapter 4
“Scarlett, please. What do I wear? What do I say? What is his mom like? What am I getting into here?”
“Wait, slow down. You’re going where? I swear you said you’re going to Sunday dinner with Q. I’m only half awake,” she said with a yawn.
“Marcus invited me to the Quinterros’ Sunday dinner. A barbecue. He’s picking me up at two. I have nothing to wear, and I am trying really hard not to freak out.”
“I thought that’s what you said.” She yelled to her husband, “Gabe, go buy a lottery ticket! You’ll never believe what happened.”
“Scarlett!” Flynn barked into the phone. “Focus.”
“I am focused. I’m focused on the fact that the man who wanted you banned from the club and threatened to sell his half of it last night is now taking you to Sunday dinner with his family.”
“What?” Flynn dropped onto her dressing room’s settee. “He said that?”
“To my face. This isn’t secondhand.”
Flynn’s stomach twisted. “He was going to sell his half of the club if Gabe didn’t ban me?”
“I think he was exaggerating, but whatever you’ve been doing to get his attention finally worked. He was a man on the edge. He tried to get me to say I disapproved of anything happening between the two of you.”
“Do you? Disapprove?”
“Of course not. I told him he was a way better man than the ones I’d seen you pick.”
“Thanks …”
“And I gave him my blessing as long as he didn’t intend to break your heart.”
“Wait, really?”
“Yeah. You could do—and have done—way worse than Q. He’s a good guy. A bit straitlaced for you, but a good man.”
“I know that.”
“And he actually made a move! Which makes this a lottery-ticket kinda day.”
“What would you even do with more money?”
“Donate it to Meryl Fosse’s center, where Bump volunteers. There are plenty of kids who need help.”
“Fair. But … what am I getting myself into?” She glanced at the clock in her clothing-strewn dressing room. “In two hours, no less. I have nothing to wear. I’ve never been to a barbecue. What does one say? What does one do at a barbecue?”
“First, calm down. Q’s parents are great. You’ve met his dad.”
“Getting bailed out of jail.”
“He won’t hold that against you. They’re super nice. You’ll be welcomed with open arms. At least, I think so. Q is the only son, so his mom and older sisters are protective. You know Zoe, so she’ll be a familiar face.”
Flynn thought of the club manager who had at least a decade on her and definitely knew about Flynn’s not-so-subtle pursuit of her brother.
“Yeah …”
“I have no idea if Q has ever brought a girl to Sunday dinner. Not since I’ve been around. So, they will definitely think it’s a big deal.”
Flynn leaned back onto the plush pink velvet pillows behind her. “Oh God, it is?”
“Yeah, actually, now that I think about it. But you’re going to be fine.”
“I am?” Flynn squeezed her eyes shut. “What if I screw this up and miss my shot?”
“You know what therapists say about what-ifs—none of them are true. Focus on reality, Flynn.”
“I’m terrified.”
“You’re going to have fun. You love people. The food will be excellent. Mrs. Quinterro and the girls are all amazing cooks.”
“I don’t know how to cook,” Flynn whispered as her dreams of playing house with Marcus began to die.
Scarlett laughed. “You can learn. I promise it’s not hard, and you’re a smart girl.”
“What if—”
“No more what-ifs. Just stop. What’s the weather going to be like? If a barbecue, they’ll probably eat outside.”
Flynn looked at her phone and tapped on her Weather app. “They live in Jersey, right? I don’t even know where I’m going.”
“Check your weather. It’ll be close enough.”
“Okay, okay.” She scanned the weather page. “Highs in the mid-seventies. Light breeze. Chance of showers this evening.”
“Good. That’s a start. Plan to eat outside. If it were me, I’d wear a maxi dress and a cropped cardigan. But I say be yourself, which means you could basically wear anything and look amazing.”
“That isn’t helping.”
Scarlett laughed. “Since when do you care what anyone thinks about you? Just be yourself, Flynn. Wear whatever you feel comfortable wearing.”
Flynn heaved out a sigh. “I want them to like me. You know them. Just tell me what they’ll like. I’ll wear that. I really don’t want to mess this up.”
“Better to mess it up because you’re authentic than have it work out because you’re trying to be what you think they want.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I love you, Flynn. Exactly the way you are. And if someone doesn’t appreciate you for who you are today, then they’re not for you. Be yourself. Be comfortable. If you wear something to impress them, you’re going to feel awkward.”
Flynn let loose another sigh. “Thanks, Scarlett. You know I love you too.”
“Of course. Now, calm down. Why don’t you meditate or journal and then just do what comes naturally?”
“You’re right. No panic. No shame spirals. Just … let it all go, calm down, center myself, and let things unfold.”
“Good plan. You got this. Text me after. I can’t wait to hear how it goes.”
Scarlett ended the call, and Flynn let her phone fall from her fingers.
I can do this. I can calm down, center myself, and let things unfold naturally.
Flynn settled back against the cushions of the settee and closed her eyes.
One breath in, one breath out.
Let it all go.
Everything was going to work out just fine. No matter what.