Fallon
Ipoke my head into Bailey’s bedroom. “I’m heading out for the night. Do you need anything before I go?”
She closes the book she was reading and looks up at me. “For the night? You’re not sleeping here?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m going to gradually start sleeping at home more and more often to get Harper ready for me moving out. It’s time. Honestly, it’s way overdue.”
I was all set to do so last week when she loudly wished on her birthday candles that I would stay longer. How could I say no to that?
Bailey bites back a smile. “She’s manipulating you. You know that, right?”
I sigh. “I know, but she’s so damn cute. I can’t say no to her. And she told me she doesn’t remember when we were married and all living together. It kind of broke my heart.”
“Better no memories than bad ones,” she replies as if she’s remembering a bad one from her own childhood.
I give her a small smile. As I understand it, Bailey and Kam’s mother was a bit of a nightmare. I don’t know all the details, but they’ve made several comments about it, and I know they hadn’t seen her in years before she died about a year ago.
“By the way,” she continues, “Sulley is coming back to town in the next few weeks. She texted me about coming by for a visit. Are you up for a little two-on-two? You and me versus her and Harper?”
My mouth widens. “Are you kidding me? That would be amazing.”
Sulley O’Shea is the star of the professional women’s basketball league.
She was the first-ever draft pick for the Philly Beavers last year.
Everyone in this town loves her. She and Bailey are friends, but she’s been out of town for months and hasn’t seen her since the accident.
I know she checks in on Bailey all the time though.
“Yep,” she answers, “I told her you and I were both high school all-state basketball superstars who could kick her ass.” She makes a muscle with her arm in jest.
My eyes find the cane sitting in the corner of her room, which she’s refused to use over the past week. “Are you sure you’re up for it?”
“Hell yes. We’ve still got a little time to get me ready. Let’s practice tomorrow. My back-and-forth movement is good, but my lateral could use some work. And my hand still has some numbness.”
“Sounds good. Whatever you need. Don’t push beyond what you’re ready to do.”
“I won’t. Any big plans for tonight?” she asks.
I look around to make sure no one else can hear us. “I…umm…have a date.”
Her face lights up. “You do? Are you seeing someone?”
I shake my head. “No, no. It’s a first date, but we’ve been talking for a long while, and I’m really looking forward to it.”
She claps her hands with excitement. “Oh my god. Call me in the morning and tell me how it went. Do you want me to do your makeup before you go?”
“Thanks, but I’m going to shower at my house, and Reggie is coming over to help me primp. She’ll probably also need to give me a pep talk. I’m so nervous.”
She twists her lips. “Whoever it is, he’s beyond lucky to have you.
” She opens her arms for a hug. I walk over, and she pulls me close.
“Have the best time. And, Fallon, thank you so much for being here for me over the past three months. I wouldn’t be where I am without you. I’ll never forget it. I love you.”
I squeeze her in return. “Love you too. It’s been my pleasure. Your recovery is a testament to your work ethic. It might sound sanctimonious, but I’m proud of you.”
When I pull back, she has tears in her eyes. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
An hour later, I’m showered and have blown my hair dry. Reggie is helping me with my makeup.
Looking at herself in my bathroom vanity mirror from behind me, she tilts her chin up and says, “I think I’m developing a neckgina.”
I let out a laugh. “What in the hell is a neckgina?”
She flicks the loose skin on her upper neck area just under her chin. “You know. When you’ve got these extra folds of skin, it starts to look like a vagina under there.” Her eyes move to me. “Forget it, you don’t know. Your neck is as tight as a virgin before prom night.”
I roll my eyes. “Stop it. You’re beautiful.”
Ignoring me, she makes a look of disgust. “I wonder if they have something for neckginas at the gym. That might incentivize me to go.”
“I’m not sure the neckgina machine exists yet,” I offer with a heavy dose of sarcasm.
She twists her lips. “My favorite machine at the gym is the vending machine.”
I giggle. “You’re insane and very lucky, Reg. Your husband knows what a wonderful woman he has.” I clutch my heart. “You two have been in a wonderful, healthy, loving marriage for over twenty years. It’s amazing. I would give anything for a love like yours. Anything,” I emphasize and mean it.
She shrugs as she applies my eyeshadow. “I suppose. Marriage is watching your husband drive past ten good parking spots before choosing one that makes absolutely no sense. And then you have to bite your tongue over it because there are bigger battles than that, even though you desperately want to know what his thought process was.”
I smile as I shake my head at her ridiculousness. She continues, “Marriage is asking each other what you want for dinner every day until you die.”
I playfully smack her hand. “Oh my god, stop it. Tell me something helpful.”
“Hmm,” she stops as she thinks. “When Sam leaves the house, I go on his computer and google search everything I want so he begins getting targeted ads. I started last year, and now his gift giving has gotten so much better.”
“Reggie!” I yell, though that’s actually kind of genius.
“Fine. You want dating advice from someone who hasn’t dated since the nineties? Whenever you can’t think of a word, just say, ‘Ah, I can’t think of the English word.’ That way he’ll think you’re bilingual, not an idiot.”
I giggle again before exhaling a long breath as my eyes meet hers in the mirror. “I’m nervous, Reg,” I admit.
Her face softens. “Don’t be. He’s lucky it’s you at the end of this little anonymous love affair.
Imagine walking in and seeing someone who looks like a supermodel with amazing tits that defy gravity.
That shit never happens in real life. He already knows you’re a supermodel on the inside.
Now he gets to realize that he truly hit the jackpot. ”
“Thanks. I like his personality and kind heart so much. My expectations aren’t high for the physical.”
“Let’s pray he doesn’t look like Quasimodo…or Tom Petty. That guy is nasty.” She scrunches her face in disgust.
I let out a laugh. “Fair enough.”
Reggie knows Lloyd and I talk on the app every night, but she doesn’t know any details.
It feels like a betrayal of Lloyd to share that with anyone else.
He’s had it rough, from a loveless marriage to years of being celibate and a ton of problems with his kids.
I would never share the details of our conversations with anyone.
She squeezes my hand. “We’re all set for me to track your phone.
I know you feel comfortable with him and you’re going to a public place, but he’s a stranger.
You’ll be at the restaurant and then home.
If you’re altering course, text me because if you’re not in one of those two places, I’m calling the police. ”
I nod. We agreed to this, and it might be overkill, but she’s right. He’s technically a stranger. I don’t even know his real name. We mutually decided that we’d wait until we met in person to reveal our names.
The Uber drops me at the restaurant he chose. I refused to allow him to pick me up. If this doesn’t go well, I don’t need him knowing where I live. That’s normal modern-dating etiquette.
I’ve never heard of this place. It’s a little off the beaten track, but I’ve also never been line dancing.
I nervously wipe my clammy palms on my jeans skirt.
He mentioned wearing a cowboy hat. When I looked up the place, it definitely had a cowboy vibe, so I’m going with it.
In addition to the skirt, I’m wearing cowboy boots, a tight, flattering top that shows a bit of cleavage, and a thin, short leather jacket because it’s cold outside. I’d call it modern cowgirl.
The music increases in volume as I get closer to the front door. I can’t believe after all these months I’m going to meet Lloyd. I know it’s not his real name, and I have a tinge of excitement at finally learning it and seeing his face.
I don’t want to be superficial. We have a real emotional connection. I pray there’s some physical attraction. Just a small spark. Something. Anything where the outside matches the sweet, beautiful inside.
I take a few deep breaths and walk into the restaurant. I look around and can’t help but smile. This place is unlike anywhere I’ve ever been. Who knew cowboy establishments existed twenty minutes outside of a big Northeastern city? I certainly didn’t.
Everyone is wearing jeans, jean shorts, or jean skirts.
Cowboy boots and cowboy hats are abundant.
The music is playing, but it’s not deafening.
The peanut-shell-covered wooden dance floor is crowded with moving bodies and joyful faces.
There’s a steady beat of boots hitting that floor as the patrons happily dance to the fun music.
I feel like this place belongs in the Southwest with its decor.
There are horseshoes, saddles, and everything you’d expect from a real cowboy bar.
It’s basically an oversized saloon. The doors leading into the kitchen are wooden doors that swing.
There are rows and rows of regular wooden tables, and the booths line the back and side walls in a U-shape. Wow, this place is huge.
My eyes scan those back walls for the green flannel shirt I know he’s wearing. I take in almost every table until I see him sitting in the far corner booth. His head is down, and he’s wearing a cowboy hat. I can’t tell if it’s black or blue, but the shirt is green, so it must be him.
As I get closer, I can see he’s a big man with a bit of a belly, but not too much. Most guys over forty have dadbods. I’m okay with that.