Chapter 1 Lila #2
Before I could overthink it, I started typing.
Dear @WanderingHomeward,
Thanks for your message. I’m not really experienced in this kind of thing, so I’m not sure if we’re supposed to exchange cleverly written messages back and forth for a few days and then agree to a date?
But given my busy schedule, maybe we should skip that and just meet in person.
I’d like to join you for a glass of wine one evening.
I paused, reading it back. Too formal? Too stiff? I kept going before I could delete it all.
I’m free tomorrow evening or the one after that. I may be a newbie at this, but I’ve heard horror stories about serial killers, so I’ll meet you somewhere. Maybe The Pelican?
Warmly,
Lila
Mia scooted closer to read over my shoulder. “Mom, that’s great. Send it.”
“You don’t think the serial killer part is too much?”
“It’s funny. It shows personality. Send it.”
I took a breath and hit send before I could change my mind.
“There. Done.” I tossed the phone down on the couch cushion like it might explode.
Mia threw her arms around me, squeezing tight. “I’m so proud of you.”
“I just sent a message to a stranger on the internet. That’s not exactly an accomplishment.”
“Yes, it is.” She pulled back to look at me with those serious brown eyes. “It’s been long enough, Mom. You deserve someone who sees how amazing you are.”
My throat tightened. “What if it’s terrible? What if he’s nothing like his profile? What if—”
“What if it’s not terrible?” Mia interrupted gently. “What if he’s exactly as great as he seems? What if you have the best time?”
“That might be scarier,” I said, laughing.
“I know.” She kissed my cheek and stood up. “But I believe in you. And I really believe in my matchmaking skills and Robbie’s algorithms.”
“So modest.”
“It’s one of my best qualities.” She grinned. “Now I’m going to bed. But turn your ringer up so you hear it if he messages back.”
“He’s not going to message back tonight. It’s almost eleven.”
“He might. He doesn’t seem like the type to play games.” With that, she disappeared down the hallway, leaving me alone with my wine and my racing thoughts.
I picked up my phone, staring at the sent message. What had I done? This was so unlike me. I didn’t date. I didn’t put myself out there. I’d built a perfectly good life—safe, controlled, predictable. Why was I risking that?
My phone buzzed in my hand.
I nearly dropped it.
A new message from @WanderingHomeward.
He’d responded. Already.
With shaking hands, I opened it.
Dear Lila,
What a pretty name. It suits you. At least from what I can tell from your photos. You’re beautiful, by the way. I forgot to mention that in the first message. I’m free tomorrow as well. Should we meet at The Pelican at seven?
Cheers, Vance
I stared at the message. Read it again. Then once more. His name was Vance. It was a nice name, kind of serious but whimsical at the same time.
You’re beautiful, by the way.
When was the last time a man had called me beautiful? Carter used to, back in the beginning. Before the intern. Before everything shattered. I shook that thought away and typed a response, keeping it simple before I could overthink it.
Hi again.
Yes, tomorrow at seven at The Pelican sounds good. See you then.
Cheers, Lila
I hit send and immediately wanted to take it back.
Should I have said more? Been wittier? Added something charming?
But it was done. Sent. Out there in the universe.
I had a date. Tomorrow night. At seven. With a gorgeous sommelier named Vance who'd lived in Paris and loved to cook and wanted to develop deep roots.
What had I just done?
I drained the rest of my wine and stood, carrying the glass to the kitchen.
Through the window above the sink, I could see the street—quiet, empty, lit by a single streetlamp.
A car was parked across the way, headlights off.
I didn't recognize it, but that didn't mean anything.
Probably a neighbor. Still, something made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
I rinsed the glass, dried my hands, and went back to the living room. When I glanced out the front window, the car was still there. Just sitting in the dark.
Stop being paranoid. Nobody's watching you.
I pulled the curtain closed and locked the front door, actually double-checking it because I'd already locked it hours ago.
It had been like this sometimes—since the divorce. That prickle between my shoulder blades. The sense that someone was paying attention. My therapist said it was hyper-vigilance—a normal response to betrayal and trauma. Eventually, it would fade.
I hoped she was right.
The next morning, I woke to a dozen texts in our group chat. Before I could catch up, I typed my own messages, propped up against pillows in my warm bed.
Lila
Okay, I did something. I went on the app and there was a message from a man Mia had already picked out for me. I’m going out with him tonight.
Esme
YAY!!!! I’m so proud of you.
Delphine
Do we know for certain he’s a real person?
Lila
We’re meeting at The Pelican, so I’m assuming so. I just hope he’s not a killer.
Seraphina
Meeting him in a public place is a good idea. Maybe tell that cute Hunter to keep an eye on you, just to make sure.
Gillian
Sorry. Late to weigh in because I was puking. AGAIN. This baby’s trying to kill me! Keep us posted, please! I’m super excited for you.
Before I could respond, a text from Mia came in.
Mia
Did he respond?
Lila
We have a date tonight at The Pelican.
Mia
OMG MOM!!!!! I KNEW IT. What are you wearing? I’ll help you choose.
Lila
It’s 7 a.m. Can we plan at a more reasonable hour?
Mia
I’m coming to your room.
Thirty seconds later, my bedroom door flew open and Mia launched herself onto my bed, already talking a mile a minute about outfit options and whether I should wear my hair up or down and did I need to get my nails done.
I let her chatter wash over me, feeling simultaneously nervous and grateful.
My daughter was so excited. So hopeful. So convinced this was going to be something good.
Maybe she was right. Or maybe the whole thing would be a disaster.
Not to mention, I was about to start this new, demanding job on the reality show.
Either way, there was no backing out now.
“Mom, I’m so proud of you,” Mia said. “Stay in bed. I’ll make breakfast for you and bring it up.”
Before I could answer, she was on her way downstairs. Seconds later, I heard the clanking of pans from the kitchen.
I got up to brush my teeth, padding across the hardwood floor to my bathroom.
As I brushed, I thought about Mia and her adamant and hopeful belief that there was a man out there for me.
One who wouldn’t break my heart. She shouldn’t even be thinking about that kind of thing.
She should be a kid. But children of a divorcée grew up too quickly.
A failed marriage was not what I’d imagined when her father and I had decided to have a child together. I’d not thought it possible that I, Lila Morgan, would have a cheating husband. But those were the cards I was dealt, as my mother used to say. No amount of wishing would change a thing.
I'd done everything right. Picked furnishings that made us feel at home.
Chosen color palettes that soothed the soul.
Hung photos of cherished memories on every wall.
I'd even posted it all on social media to show everyone how happy we were.
My photogenic husband sitting on the patio, drinking wine.
Our precious nine-year-old daughter eating s'mores at the beach, all sticky faces and hands, grinning ear to ear.
I'd spent every evening preparing delectable dinners.
One could be a great wife and mother, and still, your husband can have an affair with his intern, and everything you thought you knew vanished in the moment it took for the screen door to slam shut.
The sound of goodbye.
Five years had passed since then. I’d rebuilt my life. My interior design business was thriving, as was Mia. She’d start her freshman year of high school in a few weeks. I’d relied on my girlfriends more than I should. But they were always there for me. And for Mia.
We’d been friends since the kids started in the same kindergarten class.
They were my family. Other than Mia, my biological family had all passed.
My grandparents when I was a girl. My own parents just after Mia was born.
But those women? They were my sisters now, their children my adopted nieces and nephews.
Yet, we’d all felt a shift in our little world.
Gillian had gotten married and then found out she was having a baby.
We would no longer be single moms raising our children together.
Would our weekly dinners at The Pelican still happen, once Gillian was caring for an infant?
And what about our Sunday dinners? Did Alex and his kids expect to join us?
I didn’t love change, even though I was happy for my friend, but, I had to admit, I was jealous. Seeing Gillian and Alex all happy and glowing had lit a need within me too.
It was time for me to take charge of my life. One humiliating first date at a time.