Chapter 20
ALLYSON
“Ican’t do this.” My reflection looks back at me with fear-filled eyes as I shake my head.
From the bed behind me, Michelle’s bored voice repeats the same thing she’s been telling me for the last twenty minutes. “Yes, you can. Yes, you are.”
“I shouldn’t do this.” Maybe a different argument will get her to see reason?
“Yes, you should.”
No dice, apparently. I plop down on the bed beside her, blowing a loose curl of hair out of my eyes. “Michelle, I’m serious. This is such a bad idea. I’m going to hurt Bruce, or I’m going to get my heart broken, or we’re both going to end up mad again.”
Michelle flops back on the bed and closes her eyes. “Tell me again.”
I’ve already told her all about my conversation with Bruce, and I mindlessly repeat it again, focusing mostly on what he said. I don’t know how he ever thought himself only a ‘dumb jock’ because he’s one of the most perceptive people I’ve ever known.
I’ve been thinking about everything he said, turning it over in my mind time and time again, evaluating and analyzing from every angle.
I’ve worked hard to let the past go, but I won’t argue that it’s shaped my thoughts, reactions, hopes.
And Bruce’s learning all that, the down and dirty of my last ten years, is inevitable with the way he notices every single thing about me.
I don’t want to be lessened in his eyes when he finds out.
That’s my real fear, I guess.
What if I don’t date anymore, not because of Cooper like I’ve been telling myself but because I’m broken, unsalvageable?
I’m a walking, talking FUBAR—Fucked Up Beyond All Repair despite all the work I’ve put into being better.
And I am better, so much better that I want to grab up the me of years ago and shake the ever lovin’ shit outta her.
But the scars and the shame run deep. Even so, I don’t want to be FUBARed anymore. And Bruce makes me hope that maybe I won’t always be.
“Whatever roller coaster you just went on, that’s the real shit you need to dig out and deal with.” Michelle’s voice breaks into my train of thought, and I peek over to find her watching me closely through narrowed eyes. “With yourself, with him, or hell, with me, if you want.”
I shrug, not sure whether I want to share all that with her. She knows a little about my marriage but respectfully tiptoed around my boundaries when I clammed up about the details and has never toed the line again. She’s a great friend.
Unfortunately, she tells me the truth even when I don’t want to hear it.
“Let’s recap. He wants to fuck you and he was the best dick of your life.” It’s not a question, so I don’t answer, but I tilt my head, looking at her with exasperation because she always gets stuck on the sex part.
“So, that’s a yes. He wants to date you.
He wants to get to know you. He wants to fall in love with you.
He wants to make you fall in love with him.
And barring all that, he’s willing to just fuck you senseless because you need some good dick.
I’m not seeing any downside here, girl. Get out of your own way and live a little.
” The last part is an order if ever I’ve heard one.
“Yes, ma’am, Boss Bitch!” I bark it out with a salute, ending with a middle finger that’s not one hundred percent a joke, but maybe ninety-five-ish, so that’s not too bad.
Michelle laughs and pushes my finger down, her tone turning serious.
“Allyson, give him a shot. Give yourself a shot. Be a little reckless, do date-y things and get to know each other again. See what comes of it. Just make sure it’s you.
At least three times.” She holds three fingers up, wiggling them emphatically.
I laugh. “You have such a one-track mind.” Standing up, I spin. “How do I look?”
Bruce didn’t say what we’re doing or where we’re going, so I’m trying to cover all the bases.
My floaty sundress seems perfect. It hits below my knees, but the deep crisscross V neckline is flattering to my breasts, and the small blue flowers are the same color as my eyes.
It feels fresh and light, making me feel the same.
Michelle traces a circle in the air, and I spin, the dress swirling out around me a bit. When I face her again, she’s smiling. Actually, it’s more of a devious grin. “He’s not going to know what hit him, Allyson.”
“Who are you hitting, Mom?” Cooper’s voice squeaks out from the door. “Ooh, you look pretty. Where are we going?”
Shit.
I was hoping to avoid this until a conversation became necessary, like if this thing with Bruce actually goes somewhere other than just sex. But I won’t lie to Cooper.
I sit on the bed, patting it so Cooper will come over. Once he’s settled, his blue eyes looking at me, I take a breath for strength. “Honey, you know I love you so much, but sometimes, adults like to hang out with other adults. That’s what I’m doing tonight, having dinner with Bruce.”
The words should be casual, but they’re definitely not, and Cooper’s such a smart kid, he knows it. “Mom, are you talking about a date?”
I mess with his hair, combing my fingers through the tangles. “Yes. I’m going on a date with Bruce.”
“Are you gonna have sex with him?”
I choke on my own spit. “What? Where did you hear that?”
His eyes dart to Michelle and he shrugs. “Liam says that’s what his parents do when his dad comes home and they send him over here for the night. Go on a date and have sex.”
I glare at Michelle, but even on her olive skin, I can tell that she’s blushing big time so I let her off the hook.
To Cooper, I say, “That’s between Bruce and me, and Michelle and Michael.
We’ll have a bigger discussion about sex later, but for now, I just want to make sure you’re okay with my going out to dinner with Bruce. ”
My tongue feels too big in my mouth. I’m very open and honest with Cooper, but I’m not prepared to have the birds and the bees talk right this second, moments before I leave on my first date in years.
Thankfully, his smile is mega-watt bright and his words ridiculously casual for how important this is. “Yeah, Coach B is cool.”
I feel like I just ran an obstacle course over Legos blindfolded, barefoot, and with one hand tied behind my back.
Michelle hops up. “On that note, let’s get you boys loaded up.
We’ve got pizzas to make, popcorn to pop, and movies to watch.
” As she ushers Cooper out of my bedroom, she mouths back, “Oh, my God!” Her eyes are filled with horror, and I expect she’s going to have an awkward conversation with Liam too.
“Holy fuck, Al.” It’s not a flowery compliment, but it swirls through my veins like warm honey as Bruce’s eyes appraise me from my curled hair, over my sundress, to my red-painted toes in high wedge-heeled sandals.
“Thank you,” I say, giving a little curtsy.
“These are for you.” He holds out a bundle of flowers tied with twine. They’re not roses from a florist but a riot of colorful wildflowers. They’re perfect.
“Thank you,” I say again. Do I sound like a broken record? Am I already fucking this up?
But I force that voice to shut up, focusing on getting a vase down and filling it with water for the beautiful flowers. Once I set it on the kitchen table, Bruce clears his throat. “You ready?”
I glance up, realizing that he’s nervous too. Somehow, that revelation puts me at ease, or at least in damn good company with my own nerves.
“You look nice too,” I say, cringing a bit at the weak compliment compared to his when he saw me. But he preens anyway, letting me look my fill.
As if I’d ever reach that point.
He’s got on brown boots without a speck of dirt of them, dark wash jeans slung low on his hips, and a button-up shirt tucked in behind his belt.
His hair’s grown out a bit over the last few weeks, dark hair that wants to curl at his neck even without his usual hat, and his beard’s trimmed neatly.
He looks like a fancy cowboy tonight. My fancy cowboy.
Once my eyes trace down and back up slowly, he offers an elbow to me, which I take delicately. Bruce leads me to the door, waiting while I lock up, but I can feel his eyes on me the whole time even as he helps me into his truck. I can tell it’s had a fresh wash too.
I appreciate that he pulled out all the stops.
It makes this feel more real. Thirty minutes ago, I would’ve said the exact opposite, thinking that casual bordering on lazy would be preferable.
But that’s because then I could’ve written the whole thing off as nothing more than a convenient re-visit to the past. But Bruce is putting in effort here.
And that means something, especially to me.
As he pulls through town, Bruce gives me a sideways glance. “So, I have two options for you.”
My brows rise as I look at him. It’s dark, but I can see the tension working in his jaw. “Options?”
He nods. “I planned it out either way. I’m not putting that on you.
I want you to know that.” I hum in acknowledgement and he continues.
“Option one, we go to the resort. They’ve got a nice restaurant where we can eat dinner, and the bar pours a decent drink and has a dance floor.
It’s no Hank’s, but it’s all right for something a bit more traditional.
Option two, we have a picnic and stargaze and talk. More like old times, I guess.”
“You packed a picnic?” I ask doubtfully.
“Yep, sandwiches, but they’re pretty good ones. Made them myself. Plus, Shayanne’s potato salad—it’s Mom’s recipe—strawberries with chocolate dip, and wine. But no pressure. It’ll all go back in the fridge at home if you’d rather go to a sit-down dinner.” He truly sounds okay with either option.