Midlife Valentine: A Later in Life Single Mom Romance

It was a mistake judging by the scowl that replaced her welcoming smile and her arms folded defensively. “Surprised that I have a skill beyond motherhood?”

“What? Hell no, I just pictured you doing something more exotic like making jewelry or painting , maybe even making art from repurposed materials.” That reply seemed to please Valona and she flashed a smile. At me.

“Sorry, I guess I’m a little touchy about my brand new business.”

“Brand new? How’s business?” Starting a business wasn’t easy, I knew that much, but maybe Valona would have some advice to offer an adrift retiree.

She sighed and flashed another smile my way. “Good, but not good, if that makes any sense. I’m getting plenty of work doing things like homecoming photos and family portraits, but I want to do more.” Her green eyes pleaded for understanding and that’s just what I gave her.

“What exactly is the more you want to do, Val?”

A low, amused laugh escaped and she pointed at me. “I see what you did there.” Her shoulders fell and her smile faded. “It’s like no one thinks I can do more than these family friendly photos. As if they still only see me as a wife and a mother, and I can’t really blame them because that’s all I’ve been for years, but I’m not one of those things anymore.”

“You’re more than that Valona, but only if you believe it. And that doesn’t answer the question of what is it that you really want to do?”

“You’re kind of pushy.”

I shrug. “True. There’s a big world out there Val, and the truth is that you only need a few to see your talent and appreciate it. Trust me.”

“Is that what happened to you? A few of the right people saw your talent and made you a star?”

My brows lifted in surprise. “Been checking up on me Valona?”

She shrugged. “I was curious. Professionally curious,” she clarified.

Because of course she wasn’t interested in a retired model with no future prospects. I nodded and pushed down my disappointment. “To answer your question, yes. It wasn’t even a few people who believed in me. Just one. My girlfriend’s father caught me coming out of the pool in the middle of a school day. He scolded us and took her back to school, but not before giving me his card and urging me to call him, and to stay away from his daughter. Turned out he was creative director for a big modeling agency.”

Valona frowned. “I thought you grew up in a small town?”

“I did. She didn’t. We met at a concert in Mobile.” I sighed and smiled at her. “I called him the next day, and thirteen years later, here I am, retired and aimless.”

Valona nodded for me to follow her into the studio. “It’s not hard to start over,” she began. “Believe me, the hard part is believing you can start over, and then just doing it.”

“And it’s just that simple?”

“In theory? Yes. The really, really hard part is actually finding something that you want to do, something that fuels you, that makes you happy to get up and get going each morning.”

I stared at her with a smile, enjoying how open and honest she was being with me. And the lack of scowling was a huge plus.

Valona blinked and a pretty little blush stained her cheeks. “What?”

“Nothing,” I told her with another smile. “Mother. Artist. Entrepreneur. Is there anything you can’t do Mrs. Berryman.”

“Yeah,” she sighed with a disappointed grunt. “I can’t seem to find my inspiration for real photos.” She tried to laugh it off, but I could see the disappointment in her eyes.

“So you spend your days taking fake photos? How does that work?”

She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. They’re not fake, but they’re staged, not full of emotion or fire or anything. Put simply, the photos are just forgettable.”

“That’s odd, because you are definitely unforgettable, Valona.”

“You don’t have to say that Trey.”

I leaned in closely and got a whiff of flowers and earth, or something similar. “I don’t have to say anything, but it’s the truth. And here’s another truth, you only need a few unforgettable photos to make your mark.”

“That’s sweet.”

I groaned, knowing ‘sweet’ was the kiss of death for a man interested in a woman, and I was definitely interested. “Did you just call me sweet, Val?”

“I did.”

“You really don’t like me, do you?”

“I like you just fine, Trey. You’re just being sensitive, sweet is a compliment.”

“Not when it’s coming from a beautiful woman. And not when the man isn’t a dog.”

A laugh bubbled out of her. She looked gorgeous and I wanted her even more. “I’m not beautiful and you certainly aren’t a dog, at least not an adorable little labradoodle.”

“More like a growling pitbull?”

She laughed again. “More like the handsome-model-with-women-falling-at his-feet breed of dog.”