Chapter 3
“Mom?” I call as I close the front door to her house behind me.
“Back here, sweetheart.”
I follow the sound of her voice back to the kitchen. Her hands are dusted with flour as she rolls out pie crusts. The scent of cinnamon and sugar is warm and comforting, making me smile with the memories of all the times we baked together when I was growing up. We’ve baked more pies than I could ever count in this kitchen.
“Aimee! I wasn”t expecting you! This is certainly a nice surprise.” Mom smiles, wiping her hands on her apron before pulling me in for a hug.
“Hey,” I say, leaning into the comfort of her hug. “Can I help with anything?”
“If you have time, you can help with these pie crusts. I’m prepping them for the bake sale at the high school. Maeve insisted that I donate some of my famous apple pie.”
I smile as I roll up my sleeves and join my mom at the counter. She’s made pies for bake sales at the high school since I was a student there. “How many pies are you making?”
“Haven’t decided yet. I suppose it depends on how much flour I have. I certainly have enough pie tins,” she says, nodding toward the far end of the counter where a couple of packs of aluminum pie pans are stacked.
We work in a familiar rhythm, which helps to settle the crashing emotions I’ve felt since my birthday. How come my dad couldn’t just accept my choices? Why does the gift of the Mustang feel like a guilt trip?
Mom glances at me, her blue eyes crinkling with concern. “Everything okay, sweetie?”
I manage a smile. “Yeah. Just thinking about Dad. I”m still getting over him leaving me the Mustang. To be honest, I didn”t realize it had been sitting in the garage all this time. I’ve taken it to Rebel Autos for them to get it back in working condition. It was pretty neglected when you gave me the keys.”
Mom pauses working on her dough and turns to me. “It’s true he neglected it the year before his heart attack. He didn’t talk about it much, but his eyesight was starting to fade, so I did most of the driving in my old Toyota.” This is news to me. “Your dad would be so proud that you”re fixing up the Mustang, Aimee.”
“You think so?” I ask, pushing the dough into a pie tin. I thought I knew my dad, but I continue to discover things about him that he kept from me. I know parents want to protect their children, but now it feels like he kept secrets from me.
“Your father loved you more than anything, Aimee,” she assures me, her voice full of conviction. “He might not have always understood your choices, but he was proud of you. Don”t ever doubt that.”
Her words surprise me, and the heaviness in my heart shifts. “It”s nice of you to say that, Mom, but that doesn”t sound like him. He never acted that way when I saw him.”
“Aimee,” my mom says, coming over and running her hand over my cheek. “I know your father wasn”t an easy man, but he did love you.”
Dad and I fought so much those last years over my career. He wanted me to pursue an MBA, but I refused. He never seemed to understand that a corporate career was never something I remotely wanted. He had tunnel vision when he got an idea in his head.
Mom squeezes my arm, grounding me. “I know so. That car was his baby. Seeing you restore it would mean the world to him. Before he passed, he was adamant that you get the car on your thirtieth birthday, like he always promised you.”
“Thanks, Mom. I needed to hear that. It’s…,” I gulp air as I fight the tears threatening to explode from my eyes, “it’s been weird and hard since you gave me the keys. You know how much the car means to me, but I never thought it would be mine. Then you surprised me on my birthday, and it’s dredged everything up with Dad.”
She kisses my cheek and pulls me into a gentle hug, and tears stream down my face. “Remember all the reasons you wanted the Mustang. You were so in love with it when you were little. Your dad always said that Mustang was special. Maybe it still has some magic left.”
I nod, wiping a stray tear from my cheek. There”s still so much I wish I could say to Dad, so much I wish we could work through. Our last conversation was an argument, where he disbelieved that I was doing well as a graphic designer and had more work than I could handle. He snapped that it wouldn’t last and I’d regret not studying business like he told me to. I said he couldn’t tell me how to live my life, and he should accept and support my decisions, but he’d closed down and didn’t say anything further.
I thought the wounds were healed, but I’m realizing I only buried them, not worked through them.
Mom pats my hand, her eyes glistening. “Oh, sweetie. Your father wasn”t always the best at communicating. But he loved you with his whole heart. All he wanted was for you to be happy.”
I look up at my mom, disbelieving. “That’s not how he treated me.”
“You listened to your heart, as you should,” Mom says firmly. “Don’t wish you’d made different choices for yourself. Never regret following your heart, Aimee. Promise me you won’t.”
“I promise,” I whisper, wiping my wrist across my eyes as I try to catch my tears before they fall into the pie.
“So, are you seeing anyone these days?” Mom asks casually as she starts working on more pie dough.
I freeze, not ready to tell her about my upcoming date with Mack. She”s always hoped I”d end up with someone like Jack, my high school sweetheart – kind, reliable, and unfortunately, utterly boring. Mack is...not that. Mack makes my heart excited about the possibilities. The night he texted me to invite me out, I knew I “should” wait until the next day to respond, so I didn’t seem too eager. But my excitement was too great, and I didn’t try to hide how much I wanted to go out with him.
“Not really. I have a date with someone this weekend, but it’s just a first date.” I hedge, devoting my attention to mixing a fresh batch of pie dough.
Mom raises an eyebrow but doesn”t press me. “Hmm. You not saying anything makes me think you really like this man. I won’t push for more details.” She smiles. “I know you’ll tell me if things go well.”
I smile as my thoughts drift to Mack. Rough, tattooed, a little older, handsome. He’s completely unlike the men I’ve dated.
Maybe he’s exactly the kind of man I need.
* * *
The scentof perfume and the thrum of pop music fill the air as Maya and I browse the racks for something to wear on my date with Mack. I flip through endless variations of crop tops and miniskirts, growing more discouraged by the minute.
“This is hopeless,” I sigh, moving a pile of hangers aside in frustration. “Everything here is meant for girls half my size.”
I don’t hate my body, but I hate that it can be hard to find clothes that fit and flatter. So many brands add inches instead of designing for a woman with curves and weight. Or they don’t design for women with heavy breasts like I have. I wish it weren’t so hard to find something nice to wear.
Maya gives me an encouraging smile. “Don”t worry, we”ll find something. What about this?” She holds up a pink sundress dotted with tiny white flowers.
I scrunch my nose and shake my head. I make a face. “Too...sweet. I’m going to a vintage car show, not the Kentucky Derby.”
Maya laughs and makes a funny face. “What are you going for, then?”
“I want to feel confident,” I say as I flip through a rack of blouses. “Sexy, but without looking like I’m trying too hard, you know?”
“Got it. Sexy, not sweet.” Maya returns the dress and pivots to a table of distressed jeans.
I want an outfit that”s cool and sexy while still staying true to my curves. As I sift through the hangers, a glint of gold catches my eye. I reach for the shimmering fabric and pull out a beautiful wraparound blouse. The silky material shimmers under the store lights.
“Ooh, that’s gorgeous!” Maya says, coming over and inspecting the blouse.
I run my hands over the smooth chiffon fabric. With its deep V-neck and loose sleeves, the blouse looks like it would look amazing.
“It”s perfect,” I breathe. I imagine Mack’s eyes popping as he sees me in this. It might be a little dressy for a car show, but I still want to impress him. “I’m trying this one on.”
I grab the blouse in my size and practically sprint to the fitting rooms, Maya on my heels. I shed my t-shirt inside the cramped stall and carefully slip the blouse over my shoulders. The luxurious fabric whispers against my skin, and I turn to examine myself in the mirror.
My face falls as I look at my reflection. The deep V-neck gapes open, unable to contain my chest. I try to reposition the front so my breasts are covered, but the fabric strains. The silky chiffon is unforgiving. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I shouldn’t be surprised at a blouse not fitting, but the sting of something not fitting both my waist and chest never gets easier.
“How”s it looking?” Maya calls.
I blink back the tears and clear my throat. “It”s, uh...not great. Too tight.”
“Aw, bummer! No worries, we”ll keep looking.” Ever the optimist, Maya isn”t deterred. Meanwhile, I wrestle my way out of the blouse and put my shirt back on, putting the ill-fitting top back on a hanger.
I”m about ready to call it quits when Maya grabs my arm. “Wait, don”t give up yet. I found something I think you”ll love.”
My shoulders slump as I follow her lead. I appreciate Maya”s determination, but I’m reluctant to try on anything else after the last disappointment. The fabric looks stretchy and soft, the dusty rose color feminine yet cool. It’s definitely a date-worthy blouse.
“Go try it.” Maya gives me a gentle push toward the dressing room. “I have a good feeling about this one.”
I sigh and take the blouse back to the dressing room. Shimmying out of my T-shirt for the second time, I slip the stretchy material over my head. I gasp when I see how beautifully it hugs my curves and flatters my breasts. The neckline shows a hint of cleavage, while the fitted bodice skims over my stomach and hips. It’s absolutely perfect.
I step out of the stall, holding my breath. “I think I’m in love!”
Maya”s eyes go wide. “Oh, my god! Aimee, you look amazing.”
I let out a triumphant laugh and pivot to see the back view. The blouse lays smoothly and looks just as amazing from the back.
“This is it!” I can”t stop beaming as I admire my reflection. The blouse transforms me into the bombshell I want to be for Mack. Sexy yet classy, accentuating my curves rather than making me look like a fancy sausage.
Maya whistles. “Damn, girl. Mack”s gonna swallow his tongue when he sees you in that top!”
A thrill rushes through me as I imagine Mack”s reaction. With this blouse, I feel like I could take on the world and look fantastic doing it. “I”m getting it!” I don”t even glance at the price tag before rushing back into the stall to change.
“You”re gonna slay your date!”
I laugh. “Let”s hope so!”