Page 319 of Dark Love

She laughs. “I’ll come visit you and your hundred grandchildren.”

“Not mine.” Why did I say that?

“What? Don’t tell me you don’t want to have kids. That’s like saying there isn’t a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow and that unicorns don’t exist.” She sits up almost sloshing her drink on her lap.

“You know none of those things are real.”

“Why don’t you want to have kids?”

Do I want them, or have I just accepted that I won’t? “Because what my parents have doesn’t exist anymore. People our age don’t get forever with someone. We’re so jaded and self-absorbed that forever is a pipe dream written about in fairytales and romance novels.” I should know.

Her mouth drops open.

The car comes to a stop, giving me a reprieve from this all too serious conversation. I push the door open and climb out. Limos really do need a driver to help you out. Or maybe everyone else is just more coordinated than I am. I grab the handles and pull myself out, stubbing my toe on the curb.

Mindy, who ended up refilling her glass several times, gets out without issue.

The bouncer steps out of the car.

Mindy doesn’t live in a bad neighborhood, but having a big scary guy by our side isn’t a bad thing at all, especially since there’s no doorman at her building. Mindy walks over to unlock the door and I stand back to avoid crowding her.

Our bouncer doesn’t seem to have any issue with crowding people as he walks over to my side. He leans down and whispers in my ear, “Love like that is neither a fairytale nor a pipe dream.”

WHAT?!? How could he—

“Always assume people are listening.”

Oh my! Oh my! The only comfort I can find in this situation is that I’ll never see this man again. I shouldn’t have spoken so freely to Mindy. I shouldn’t have shared at all. Life never works out when I try to get closer to people.

Baking

Dahlia

Flour… check

Sugar… check

Molasses… check

Vanilla… check

The phone rings as I’m checking the pantry for the ingredients that I need to make cookies. Why do I always have chocolate chips but rarely remember to buy milk? “Hello.”

“Dahlia.”

“Hi, Mom!” I set the phone on the counter on speaker. Mom never calls to ask a quick question. “How are youand Dad?”

“We’re good. Work called him in to do a consultation again. They don’t seem to understand what retirement means.”

“A consult means Dad is going to take you on vacation.”

“That too.” She giggles. “I think we’ll go somewhere sunny before the foliage gets into full swing. Have you started to move your fall wardrobe out of storage yet? It’s getting chilly at night.”

“I need to do that.” Climbing up into the attic isn’t my favorite thing to do.

“Your father and I can come down and help you later in the week.”

“You don’t need to do that, Mom.” I set the flour canister on the bar next to the bowl.

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