“One of my favorites. I’ll let them both know. Talk soon, Lis.”
“Later.” I disconnected the call and prepared myself for a quick run in the rain.“Okay, sweetie, I’m off. There’s a twenty on the hallway table for pizza.” I fastened my earrings on the way down the stairs. “Sharon’s husband will drive me home around midnight, but call if you need anything.”
“Holy crap, Mom.” Aurora stared at me over her shoulder, comfy on the couch for a movie night with a friend. Jess would be here any moment. “Can I borrow your dress sometime?”
“I don’t think so,” I laughed. If I was hesitating to wear a dress with cleavage, there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell I’d let my fifteen-year-old borrow it. Besides, it was at least two sizes too big for her. I liked it because, while it was snug and pushed my breasts together, it flowed out below the chest, effectively hiding the mommy pooch.
Mommy liked that.
Mommy also liked that it had discreet pockets with zippers.
It was a bit short though, so I’d paired the green dress with leggings.
“Are you on the prowl?” Aurora smirked.
I shot her a look. “I am absolutely not.” Then I hesitated. “Is it too much? I’m just going dancing with Sharon.” Maybe the lipstick was too red. I could tone it down. I’d forgone my glasses for contacts too.
“No! You’re beautiful, Mom. I like the side bangs too, but you should leave your hair down.”
“Hmm.” I walked out into the hallway where we had a full-length mirror. She could be right. With the sleeveless dress, I was already feeling more exposed. I released my hair from the clip and ran my fingers through the waves. I’d cut it recently, so it just barely reached my shoulders.
Aurora joined me in the hallway and nodded approvingly. “I got a hot momma.”
“Oh, shush.” This was still so new to me. I’d gone out with Sharon many times over the years, even more so after the divorce, but it’d been a slow process to go from married clothes to single clothes. I’d learned there was a significant difference. “You’re not your brother, so I don’t have to tell you not to burn the house down, right?”
There was a honk outside, letting me know Sharon was here.
Aurora smirked wryly. “You’re the one wearing heels. I’m in PJs. The house will stand.”
I chuckled and put on my coat, tying the belt around my waist. Fall had definitely arrived in Washington. “Don’t be surprised if I’m home earlier. I’m quite attached to my own PJs these days.” After tucking my driver’s license, credit card, and some cash into one pocket and my lipstick and eyeliner in the other pocket, I was ready for an evening on the dance floor with my girlfriend. I didn’t like having a purse to worry about when there was dancing involved.
Aurora handed me my phone.
It went into my coat. Later, I’d put it in my bra.
“I love you. Have fun with Jess.” I kissed her cheek, careful not to get lipstick on her. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
She quirked a brow, and I ignored the smartass reply that was no doubt on its way.Christ, Halloween decorations everywhere.
I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to summer, damn it.
Sharon and I found a booth once we’d gotten our first round, and the music came from speakers for now. A cover band would get on the stage in an hour or so and fill the establishment with country rock.
We’d found this club last year, and though I wasn’t the biggest fan of country, I liked that the place catered to people our age.
“Big crowd for being so early,” Sharon noted, eyeing the dance floor. “How many divorce lawyers do you think these people have made rich?”
I laughed and took a sip of my drink. “At least I haven’t contributed to that.”
It was something I’d never stop being grateful for. Every time Aurora or Brady announced that the parents of a friend of theirs were getting divorced, I thanked my lucky stars William and I remained friends. We hadn’t needed any lawyers between us.
These past two years had shown us what we were meant to be for each other. Friends and parents to our hellions.
“There’s time, honey.” Sharon patted my hand. “I have a good feeling about your husband number four, though. I think he’ll be a keeper.”
I spluttered. “Thanks, bitch.”
She grinned and flipped her blond tresses over her shoulder.
“No, but seriously, when are you getting Tinder?” she pressed.
Jesus, not this again. “Never. What would I even say in the profile? Forty-two years old, divorced after twenty years of marriage. And in the last ten, I was my husband’s caregiver as he battled depression, after which he left me when his childhood love returned to town, and now they’re riding off into the sunset together.”