Whiskey and Country

The next day, I surveyed the business I’d created from scratch. Gowns made by local and foreign designers, prom dresses, bridal attires, accessories like shoes, purses, tiaras. Dahlia’s Bridal Shop had something for everyone. Including a kid’s section with smaller versions of high-fashion labels. It even hosted an exclusive line of bridal wear by a coveted designer from Milan and an affordable line sporting my name that I co-designed.

Being the owner, I spent a lot of time dealing with orders and numbers. I enjoyed the business side of things. But I also liked to meet with women and help them pick the most beautiful gown for their perfect day.

Making their princess dreams accessible and possible.

The shop was busier than I’d ever expected it would be. That’s why I hired another employee. I couldn’t work ten-hour shifts seven days a week. Jack spent most of his weekdays with Paula, but his nights and most weekends were mine. No matter what, this wouldn’t change. In all honesty, I could have chosen to never work another day in my life. My future was already secure. But I still had dreams and wanted to reach for them, and this bridal shop was at the very top of the list. After finding love again and having at least another child. Someday. One day.

Anyway, being a retiree didn’t fit me. Not at all.

Today, I came home early, wanting to spend quality time with my baby.

“Jack’s still asleep, Ms. Ellis,” Paula said as I dropped my purse on the kitchen island.

“Thank you, Paula, and please call me Dahlia.” She said yes, but I knew she wouldn’t. Just like the fifty previous times I asked her to. “You can go home. I’ll take it from here.”

She left, and after I changed into a pair of cotton shorts and a hoodie, I climbed into Jack’s bed, molded my body to his, and closed my eyes, napping by his side as sleep claimed me.

We woke up two hours later, rested. “Nick came over last night to bring you something. Hungry for a cookie?” I asked my baby boy as we sat on the back deck, watching squirrels jumping from trees, enjoying the last hour of today’s sunlight.

“Yay,” he screamed, hopping all around me. “Cookies. Cookies. Love cookies. Mama, gimme.”

After I fished the box, I joined him outside and opened the lid.

“Oh,” Jack said. “Frogs. Boing. Boing.” He paused to imitate the animal. “Boing. Boing.”

I watched my son, his adorable grin full-on, clapping his hands, reaching for a green-frosted sugar treat.

He licked his lips, and I failed to hide my smile.

“Good?” I asked. He nodded, gulping the last bite, his fingertips green with frosting.

Unable to resist, I tasted one too. “Ohmygod, you’re right. Wow, these are delicious.”

“Deciliticious,” he repeated, scooting over to sit on my lap. With a palm, I ruffled his mass of hair and kissed his head.

Soon he squirmed out of my embrace and hurried to the slide, scaring the squirrels as he ran after them.

Left alone, my thoughts returned to Nick. And how I missed him. Last night ended up being a teaser, making me yearn for him even more.

Jack called my name, and I joined him, scooping him in my arms and tickling him while he laughed his heart out.

On the swing, with my arms around him, I rocked Jack back and forth as an idea popped into my head.