5.0 #2
I put the car in drive and aim the hood toward home, the shop shrinking in my rearview until it's just light, then shadow, then gone.
By the time I pulled up to daycare, the sky had softened into that lavender gray that always made Philly feel smaller, like the city was folding itself into corners.
Through the glass doors, I spotted Alina right away-her pink sneakers kicked under a table, braids fuzzy from play, coloring with a red crayon like her life depended on it.
The second she noticed me, she bolted, half her papers spilling behind her.
"Mommy!"
I knelt just in time for her to crash into me, arms wrapping tight, little body buzzing with leftover energy.
"Hey, bug. Did you have fun?"
She nodded hard enough for her beads to click. "I was the caboose. And then the line leader. And then the snack helper." She said it like she'd been promoted three times in one day.
"Well, excuse me, Miss Employee of the Month." I kissed her cheek, still sticky from juice. "Grab your bunny. Let's head out."
At home, dinner was quick-mac and cheese, broccoli she pushed to the side, and a chicken nugget negotiation that ended with her eating two more than she wanted to. Bath, lotion, pajamas. The usual battles: which storybook, how many stories, why bedtime came every single night like it was a surprise.
By the time I tucked her in, she was yawning even as she begged for "just one more."
"One more hug," I compromised, wrapping her tight. She smelled like bubble bath and crayons, her curls damp against my cheek.
"Night, Mommy."
"Night, bug."
I closed her door halfway and leaned against the frame for a second, letting the silence fill back in. These were the moments that made the rest worth it-the grind, the long days, the push-and-pull with Kian.
My phone buzzed on the counter.
Kian: Reservation at Besos. 9.
That was it. No emoji, no "are you free," no "wanna go." Just a statement, like he was narrating the future.
I stared at it, lips curving despite myself. Besos wasn't just dinner. It was one of those dim-lit spots where people took pictures of their drinks before sipping, where the booths were all velvet and the plates were just as much presentation as food. The kind of place that said serious.
My thumb hovered before I typed back:
Me: Okay.
The dots popped up, then disappeared. No follow-up. Classic Kian.
I exhaled, still smiling, then scrolled to Julian's contact and hit call.
He picked up on the second ring. "What's good, guncle's here."
I laughed. "You're ridiculous. I need a favor," I said, already bracing for the teasing. "Tomorrow night."
"Ohhh." His voice lifted, immediately suspicious. "Tomorrow night, huh? You finally letting Loverboy take you out?"
"Julian."
He cackled. "Don't Julian me. I knew it! I knew you couldn't resist forever. What time you need me to grab Lina?"
"Seven-thirty," I said, ignoring the rest.
"You got it. We'll make popcorn, watch Encanto for the millionth time. You'll owe me, though."
"I always owe you."
"You do." His tone softened. "But I like being owed. Keeps me rich in favors."
I smiled despite myself, leaning against the counter. "Thanks, J."
"Anytime."
When we hung up, I set the phone down and stared at the reservation text again.
Besos at nine.
The old me-the girl who used to sprint headfirst into any affection, no matter how shaky-would've already picked a dress, curled her hair, and imagined a future off one dinner.
This me knew better. This me had a daughter asleep down the hall and a life I'd built brick by brick with my own two hands.
But still, my stomach flipped, just once, quiet but undeniable.
I poured myself a glass of wine, let the silence of the house wrap around me, and tried not to think too hard about what tomorrow meant.
The next evening, I carried my glass upstairs, toes careful on the steps so they wouldn't creak and wake Alina. In my room, I set it on the nightstand and opened the closet.
For months I hadn't thought twice about clothes.
Everything was work-friendly-black smocks, jeans that could take bleach, sneakers that wouldn't kill my feet after a twelve-hour day.
Even when I dressed up, it was for convenience: flowy dresses that didn't need ironing, sweaters I could pull over leggings.
But Besos wasn't convenience. Besos was velvet booths and low light. It was couples taking mirror pictures in the bathroom, captions with hearts.
My fingers slid past hangers-silk, sequins, satin I hadn't worn since my early twenties. Pieces I couldn't bring myself to give away even if they'd sat untouched. The red dress from a birthday I'd sworn I'd forget. A gold latex dress that whispered like water.
I pulled a few onto the bed, sat cross-legged, and stared at them like they might choose themselves.
It wasn't about impressing Kian. That was the thing. He already wanted me-he made it clear every time he touched my arm, every time he said wait for me like it wasn't an option to say no.
This was about me. About feeling like I was stepping out as someone more than Alina's mom or the girl behind a salon chair. About proving to myself that I could still slip into something that wasn't built for work or bedtime routines.
I sipped my wine, then stood in front of the mirror, holding up the black slip. It still fit against my frame, still whispered the same promise. I caught my own reflection watching me too closely, like she was trying to remind me of something.
The doorbell rang downstairs.
Julian.
I padded down barefoot and cracked the door open. He stood there grinning, hoodie pulled low, arms wide before I even said a word.
"Where my girl at?"
"She's brushing her teeth," I said, smiling.
He came in, set his overnight bag down like he lived here, which, honestly, he half did. Alina came barreling down the hallway a second later, bunny in hand.
"Guncle!"
"That's me," he said, scooping her up and spinning until she shrieked with laughter. "You ready for movie night?"
"Yes! Mommy said I could bring my blanket."
Julian shot me a look over her shoulder. "See? Best babysitter alive. Don't say I never did nothing for you."
I rolled my eyes, hiding the warmth in my chest. "Be good, both of you."
He waved to me with Alina still in his arms. "Alina tell mommy she needs to be good. Do everything Guncle would do, which i'm sure she already has."
A squeal left my mouth, "Bye Julian."
When the door shut behind them, the house went still again.
The house always felt too big once Alina wasn't in it. Her laughter bounced off the walls long after she left, and when the silence settled, it was sharp. I climbed back upstairs, the gold dress still waiting on the bed.
For a long moment, I just looked at it, wine glass warm in my hand, the quiet wrapping around me.
Still, I laid the dress across the chair by my dresser, smoothed the fabric flat, and told myself one date didn't mean things will instantly get messy.
The gold dress gleamed under the lamp, unapologetic. I peeled off my sweats and tugged it on slow, smoothing it over my hips until it molded to every curve. The latex clung tight, catching the light when I turned.
At my vanity, I plugged in the curling wand, heat glowing red against the dim room.
I parted my hair to the side, curling each section until they fell in glossy waves down one shoulder.
The weight of it shifted my face in the mirror-older, sharper, someone who knew what she was doing even if she didn't.
The reflection staring back at me wasn't the tired girl from this morning.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Kian
Outside.
Of course he didn't come to the door. Of course it was just a statement, no question mark. That was Kian-always certain.
I slipped on strappy heels, grabbed the clutch I hadn't used since... I couldn't even remember. One last glance in the mirror stopped me cold. The gold shimmered, my curls framed me perfectly, and for the first time in a long time, I let myself think, Damn. I look good.
I didn't tell myself it was for him. It wasn't.
It was for me.
I clicked off the light, heels echoing against the wood as I headed for the door.
The night air hit warm against my skin, the kind of early-summer heat that made the city feel alive long after the sun went down.
Streetlights painted the block in gold streaks, and Kian's car sat at the curb like it owned the whole street-black, sleek, windows tinted so deep you couldn't see a thing.
I locked the door behind me, heels clicking sharp on the concrete as I walked down. The passenger window slid down halfway, just enough for his face to appear under the wash of the streetlamp.
He looked at me once. Slow. From head to toe, his grin cutting through like he'd been waiting for this exact moment.
"Damn." His voice was low, lazy. "You showing out tonight."
I smirked, pulling the handle. "You don't look bad yourself."
The car smelled like him the second I slid in-clean cologne, faint smoke, leather. His hand rested casual on the gearshift, but his eyes lingered, dragging over me like he couldn't help himself.
For a while, the only sound was the city moving around us-cars honking two blocks over, someone yelling on the corner, the steady thrum of music through the speakers.
Halfway down Broad, his phone lit up on the console. The name read Cousin.
He glanced at me, then answered, voice shifting in that way it did when business crept in. "Yo."
I didn't look over. Kept my eyes on the city flashing past my window, letting his side of the call wash over me.
"Yeah, I know. ... I told you, I'll handle it. ... Nah, I'm with somebody right now." A pause. "Yeah, her. Don't worry about all that."
I felt his glance, heavy on my cheek. I didn't turn.
"My word's my bond, you know that," he said, firmer now. "I said I'll pull up, I'll pull up. When? ... Aight, I'll talk to her. See if she's with it."
He hung up, sliding the phone face down on the console like it burned.