Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Two days later, I’m stuck on writing a scene, trying to figure out what happens next before my phone vibrates with a text, snapping me out of it. Thrilled to have a distraction, I open it right away, breaking my rule of no phone while writing.
Unknown number
L
The text is not a demand, but it’s not a question, either. I’m guessing Mr. Sterling doesn’t hear the word ‘no’ a lot. Still, a flicker of excitement blooms in my belly.
My focus is now fully gone, so I dial Sandy’s number right away.
“What up?” she asks casually as she picks up.
“I got a date invite from Mr. Sterling!”
“What? How did he get your number?” She matches her voice to mine and we’re both squealing.
“No idea. Guess he has his ways. ”
“Of course he does. He’s Leo fucking Sterling. What are you doing?”
“I was trying to write…”
“Scratch that! I’m coming over. We need to plan this.”
A click signals the call is over. I save my manuscript, deciding I wouldn’t be productive today, anyway.
“I’m here, I’m here!” Sandy bursts into my house fifteen minutes later. Stella is strapped to her chest, peacefully sleeping.
“Coffee?” I offer.
“Sure.” She waves me off. “Let me see the text. What did you respond?”
I hand her my phone. “Nothing?”
“What?!”
“I figured we can think of something together.” I shrug, handing her a cup.
“Fine, ok. We’ll handle this. Let me think on it.”
We walk into the living room and get settled on the couch. I caress Stella carefully, not to wake her up while Sandy stares at my phone.
Knowing Sandy’s on the case makes everything better. She’s all drama, but she gets shit done.
“Ok. Here’s what I’m thinking,” she says after a few pensive minutes. “You need to look cool.”
A laugh bubbles out of me. “That much I figured.”
“So, we need a casual reply. Something that says you’re interested, but not too interested, you know?”
“I agree.” I take a sip of my coffee, considering if I should have any more.
“Well?” She looks at me expectantly. “You’re the writer.”
“Erm, yeah.” I am the writer. But nothing I wrote ever had anything to do with real life. Maybe it’s time to change that.
I take my phone back, trying to light up my creative spark. My lips turn up, typing the only thing that comes to mind, and hitting send before I can convince myself otherwise.
Me
Looking forward to it.
Sandy grabs the phone from me, her eyes flying over the screen.
“I like it. Simple, elegant.” She beams at me. “Now we have to figure out what are you going to wear. We also need to get you a mani-pedi and waxing appointments. When did you do your hair last?”
Aaaaand she’s in PA mode. A few taps later, I have a mani-pedi and a Brazilian wax scheduled for tomorrow.
“I went last week.” I’ve been getting grays since I was in my late twenties, so my monthly hair appointment isn’t something I skip. “Do I have to get a Brazilian? I hate it.”
“You don’t, but it’s what men prefer.” She shrugs.
Those men are creeps , goes through my head, but I don’t share it aloud. Truth be told, I’m excited.
“You think he’ll get to see it?” I ask.
“Do you want him to?”
“I don’t know. Probably. I’ve been out of the dating pool for so long, I have no idea what is appropriate anymore.”
“There’s no such thing as appropriate. The time is right when you feel it’s right.”
Her answer is simple, but there’s nothing simple about the whole thing to me. I haven’t had sex in years. My body would be ready at a second’s notice. But my mind, my mind feels vulnerable.
The last time I had casual sex, I was twenty years old with perky tits and an equally perky attitude. I didn’t have stretch marks, or episiotomy scars, or trauma caused by years of marital neglect. It was pure hormones and vibes.
God, I wish it could be like that again. It’s not that I miss the way I looked, not really. But I miss feeling invincible. I miss not caring about getting my heart broken, or worse, having my kids’ hearts broken.
I miss things being simple.
Or I miss who I was when things were simple.