Page 43 of Kiss Me Tonight

At my strangled silence, Meredith shrugs. “I think they’re hoping if they push for it, you’ll buckle.”

“They’re out of luck. There will be no buckling—not today, tomorrow, or five years from now.”

Although I keep my voice even-keeled, I swear the remark earns me a few death glares from the people in close proximity. A man I’ve never seen before cracks a grin, destroying the whole death-glare theory, and then promptly whispers something to the woman standing next to him. She, in turn, giggles fiercely.

Her shoulders shake like a set of Mexican jumping beans.

What in the world is so funny?

Although it’s been years since I schmoozed and cruised on Rick’s arm for any number of his high-end functions—he preferred to leave his “small-town wife” at home—I’m no stranger to high school events with parents. These meetings, which I always try to host in a non-intimidating venue like a bar or a restaurant, are how I create personal connections with the parents. For me, coaching football isn’t just about drills and plays—it’s about the off-the-field victories too. I’m no therapist, and I would never claim to be one, but I’ve never felt more successful than when I’ve managed to help a mom or dad re-engage with their child, for whatever reason.

These initial meetings are my launching point—where I’m most in my zone.

And yet something is so, so off tonight.

I glance down at my shirt, immediately searching for something amiss. I haven’t even had a single cocktail tonight, so the likelihood of a stain is close to nil.My zipper. Subtly, I sweep a hand over my pelvis, doing a little drive-by check to ensure I’m not showing the world my pink panties with little pineapples on them.

I’m a sucker for fun underwear—as opposed to sexy lingerie—and have a wide assortment in my drawer at home. Ones with funny sayings, ones with hilarious designs printed on them. It’s a joke Rick never understood, which no doubt culminated in another check mark in the column titled Reasons Why I Should Have Never Married Aspen Levi. He tallied up many check marks over the years, starting with how I failed to lose the baby weight after Topher was born, and not even coming close to ending with how I never managed to fit in with his fancy acquaintances. Better to leave me at home than risk me getting in his way.

“Meredith,” I start, when I catch another woman covering her mouth to hide a grin when she looks over at me. “I know we don’t really know each other, but I have to ask . . . Do I have a sign on my forehead that I don’t know about? Maybe a piece of paper taped to my back?”

The way I’m getting looks tonight, it’s as though I’m a walking disaster.

Which, though often true, shouldn’t be the case tonight. While I didn’t have time to tame my hair into a sleek blowout the way I’d hoped to before the Willow fiasco, I still hit up the makeup I rarely use and also dressed in a flirty, lace top that gives the girls a nice boost. For the first time in a very, very long while, I feel feminine. Pretty. Someone to be desired, despite spending years with Rick, who made me feel like the ratty shirt in the back of your closet, forgotten and unwanted. More importantly, I feel like a woman, too, and not just a mom and a football coach who lives in workout gear like I was born in spandex.

Hello, my name is Aspen Levi and I’m the queen of leggings and oversized T-shirts. It doesn’t have a memorable ring to it.

Faced with Meredith’s silence, I glance over at her. Only, she’s currently licking the pad of her thumb and rubbing her forehead with it over and over again.

Huh.

Maybe all those people aren’t laughing at me but at her.

Jerks—all of them.

Don’t they know how cruelty can damage a person’s self-esteem?

Looking left, then right, I step close and lower my voice. “You okay?” I ask gently. “You seem a little . . . squirrely right now.”

“Your eye . . .” Meredith rubs her forehead again a little more forcefully.

Is it code? Is she trying to communicate that someone around us has made her feel uncomfortable? Though she’s only a few years younger than I am, I’m ready to go all mama bear and get to the bottom of it.

“She’s trying to tell you that you have makeup all over your face.”

13

Aspen

The latter doesn’t come from Bobby’s mom.

No, I could never be so lucky.

Dominic Fucking DaSilva.

Is there a humiliation of mine that this man hasnotwitnessed since we met? No, I don’t think so. It’s incredibly unfair. You’d think the universe would be tired of giving him everything: good hair, great muscles, a gorgeous face.

Okay, maybe “gorgeous” is taking it a bit too far.

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