Chapter 31 Alessia
Natasha: Can you cover for a no-call no-show tonight?
Aly: Sorry… I can’t.
Natasha: WTF? You’re always my go-to.
Aly: ...
Natasha: Wait a minute… Do you have a date? Is it with my cousin?
Aly: Yes and no.
Natasha: WHAT?
Aly: It’s with our electrician…
Natasha: TRAVIS? Does Gabriel know that?
Aly: I don’t know. I haven’t seen him in a few days. I think he’s been avoiding me.
Natasha: Aly, you know he wouldn’t be okay with this.
Natasha: Aly.
Aly: I think… I need to do this. I might need to spend a round of dating other people. I can’t just rush into a new relationship with the first guy I sleep with after my divorce, right? I feel like if I go, I’m not being fair to Gabriel and if I don’t go, I’m not being fair to myself.
Natasha: I think you’re making a mistake.
Natasha: But I understand that you’re going through a lot of change right now. The bar is crazy. I can’t talk. But let’s catch up tomorrow?
Aly: Travis said the electricity will be fixed in two days so we can move back in. Let’s catch up then.
Natasha: Talk to you soon.
***
I smooth the soft fabric of my skirt around my hips and stare at my reflection in the cracked bathroom mirror of the cozy, Italian restaurant where I’m meeting Travis for our date tonight.
The place is nothing fancy—just a quaint, mom-and-pop place in Brookhaven that looks like it could use a good upgrade to the interior and menu.
It’s the kind of spot where they make the pasta by hand, and it doesn’t leave that bloated feeling like the stuff from the chain restaurants do.
The real deal. I’m just relieved it’s not Brookhaven Brews where I work, filled with the reminders of Gabriel and my last date with Chris that ended a lot differently than I thought it would.
This place feels like a chance to start fresh, and I plan on giving Travis my full attention tonight.
Or, as much as I can give him.
Do I feel even the slightest flicker of guilt about not telling Gabriel I’m going on this date? Maybe a little. But he hasn’t been around. There wouldn’t have been an opportunity even if I wanted to. Plus, we’re not exclusive. Hell, we’re not even dating. We’re nothing.
That’s what I keep reminding myself every time something in my chest tugs like that’s not entirely true.
Because regardless of the wild pull that I feel toward Gabriel—the way he looks at me, the things he says, the way my body reacts to him like it already belongs there—I think I need this.
I need to explore. To date other people after my divorce.
To figure out who I am again. This is what I said I needed.
This is what I promised myself I would do once I moved to Brookhaven and finally found the confidence to start living again.
I need my gap year—without falling headfirst into another relationship with the first guy who shows me attention and licks my pussy. No thank you, but also, thank you for your services, Gabriel. Now I need to spread my legs-er wings-and soar.
I smile at my reflection, feeling a little more confident today. More beautiful. My lips are fuller, my breasts too, and I realize—oh, that’s because I’m about to get my period. Lovely. That extra surge of progesterone and estrogen are doing their magic on my skin and curves.
My lips are painted a bold shade of red, and I’m wearing this cute, though very short, red skirt with built-in shorts—basically a skort, but you can’t tell. Pair that with a black velvet long-sleeve top, and black nylons and I’m good to go.
“You got this,” I whisper at my reflection.
I step out of the bathroom and head back toward the table where I’d been sitting earlier, hoping for a minute to collect myself before Travis arrives. But it looks like he already did. So much for that moment. The date’s starting and suddenly I feel unprepared.
He’s standing when he sees me, and my first thought is the same one I had the day we met. He’s handsome. Seriously handsome. And those cautious, kind eyes of his—they make me feel… seen.
When I showed him the upstairs of Natasha’s house, he told me about his young daughter. The one he leaves with a babysitter while he’s at work. For a second, a strange guilt flickers through me now, like I’m stealing a little piece of time that should belong to her instead.
But this isn’t just some meaningless experiment. There could actually be something here. And I’m sure he wouldn’t have asked me out if he wasn’t genuinely interested too.
The only problem is that race of my heart that always happens… That rush of breath in my lungs that I get when I look at Gabriel… is nowhere to be found.
“Hi, wow, you look beautiful tonight,” he says with an easy smile.
He opens his arms wide and wraps me in a tight hug.
I let him, leaning into the warmth of his body, the solid feel of him.
I try to clear my mind. I think about how this is nice.
This is what dating after divorce is supposed to be—putting myself back out there, reminding myself that not all men are the worst and cheaters, slowly shedding the bristling, defensive edge I’ve perfected over the years.
If you haven’t heard of the bristle effect, that’s what I’ve had for a long time in any male’s presence.
But look at me now, not bristling as this guy touches me. I consider that a win.
“Thank you,” I say, smiling. “You look nice too.”
He pulls out my chair, waiting until I settle in before moving around the table and taking his seat. He looks nervous and eager. I like that. Because I’m nervous too.
“First dates are always a little awkward,” he admits with a soft laugh. “I’ll be honest, it’s been a while for me.”
I smile, lifting my water glass to take a sip. “I get that.”
The server swings by, takes our drink orders, and we both decide on the homemade lasagna before she leaves us alone again. We’re one of the few couples dining tonight, making the entire date feel even more private.
“It’s quiet in here,” I note, glancing around.
He nods. “I’ve only brought my daughter a few times, but it always feels kind of slow. I hope they don’t go out of business. Brookhaven needs more places like this, so I always try to support local when I can.”
“That’s really thoughtful.”
He shrugs, but his smile is pleased. “As a small business owner myself, I get how important it is to support local.”
“How long have you worked for yourself?”
“Since graduating from college. Realized pretty quickly my degree was useless, so I went back and got my trade certifications as an electrician instead. Gabriel and I went to school together. That’s how we met.”
My heart stalls for a second at the sound of his name. Why wouldn’t he come up tonight? Gabriel’s the one who hired him to do the work at Natasha’s house. Of course he would. Still, hearing it here, across the table on a date, makes something in my chest tighten.
I take a quick sip of water, carefully this time—trying very hard not to choke on it like I did on my last date with Chris.
“That’s… nice.”
He doesn’t notice my discomfort. “Yeah, it’s worked out for both of us. Allows me to set my hours as much as possible so that I can be with my daughter and I don’t answer to anyone.”
“How old is your daughter?” I ask leaning forward. “And what’s her name?”
“She’s three. Mia.”
“Beautiful name.”
His whole face softens. “Love of my life. She’s in either K3 or with a babysitter while I’m working, which makes me miss her like hell. But she’s thriving. I can see her really coming into her own.”
“That’s wonderful. Maybe someday she’ll be in my class.”
His eyebrows raise. “You’re a teacher?”
I nod. “Yes. Kindergarten. At Brookhaven Elementary.”
“Wow. You must have the patience of a saint.”
I laugh. “I think so. It’s such a special season in their lives—so much growth and discovery. Watching them learn to read, to write, to handle relationships, to explore the world around them—it’s the foundation for everything that comes after in their life.”
He studies me for a second, then smiles. “Sounds like you love what you do.”
I pause. Because for the first time in a long time, I can respond with full confidence that “I do love it.”
That’s when it hits me that I haven’t been taking as many PI gigs lately either.
The one this past weekend was the first in…
weeks. And it hadn’t felt the same. It used to give me this sharp sense of purpose.
A rush. Even if most of the time I was just proving what someone already suspected to be true.
Lately, though, it just hasn’t felt as… fulfilling. Not even when I remind myself that I need the extra money if I’m going to keep chipping away at my debt.
Even the job this weekend didn’t spark the same satisfaction it used to.
The boyfriend I’d been hired to tail never showed a single sign of cheating, and if I’m being honest, I didn’t push as hard as I normally would have to catch him slipping.
I wasn’t disappointed that he hadn’t either.
If anything, I felt relieved. Relieved to know maybe not everyone cheats.
“For a while, I didn’t enjoy it,” I admit. “I took a break when things got rough in my last marriage. Then throughout the divorce, I just… I couldn’t find the joy in it anymore. The kids, the job—it all felt empty, and I wasn’t my best.”
“I can imagine.” His voice is soft, understanding. “How long has it been since everything was finalized?”
“Two years since we separated. A year since the divorce.” I bite down on my lip, wondering if I should elaborate. “It wasn’t amicable. He’d been unfaithful.”
He exhales sharply. “Damn. I’m sorry you went through that.”
I nod, and for a moment, I realize—this is the third time that I’ve explained my divorce on a date in the past month. And each time, it feels like it’s getting a little easier. Like I’m reclaiming my story instead of letting it own me.