Page 100 of Recipe for Rivals

Okay, fine. That excuse was fair.

“Honestly,” Blair continued, “Gigi made it sound like you could show up in a paper bag and the guy would be thrilled you showed up at all. He’s not desperate, is he?”

“No. She’s exaggerating. He’s a catch, which is why I don’t think this will go anywhere, B. I’m not holding my breath.”

“I’ll hold it for you.” She groaned, then moved the phone away and shouted. “Jason, just open the microwave so it stops beeping!” Then her voice returned to normal. “Okay, I’m back. Listen, there is wisdom to Jason’s advice. Dress comfortably, and definitely let him kiss you.”

My stomach somersaulted. Imagining Dusty’s arms around me sent my blood into hyperdrive.

“You aren’t an old lady,” Blair continued. “You’re young and hot, and you deserve someone who puts you first.”

Tears sprang to my eyes. Thank heavens we weren’t on FaceTime, because I didn’t want her to know how her words affected me. “He’s three years younger than me, B. Maybe more. I don’t actually know.”

“Does it really matter? The older we get, the smaller those gaps are anyway. Besides, from what I’ve heard, he’s twice the man Carter is, and your stupid ex has like six years on Dusty.”

Those were all valid points. “You know, Carter has been calling twice a day since Ben stopped wanting to speak to him, then yesterday he just stopped. I haven’t heard from him in over twenty-four hours, which is not the relief you’d think it is.”

“You think he’s going to quit talking to you altogether? Because that doesn’t sound like a bad thing.”

“The kids deserve to have their dad, even if I don’t like him.”

She made an irritated noise. “Stop being a saint and block him for good.”

“I’m not, and you know I can’t. First off, it’s the law. Second, what kind of person would I be if I got in the way of my kids having a relationship with their dad?”

“Like I said,saint. Honestly, I’m over him. Can we keep talking about the fireman, please? I can’t believe I’m the one who has to say this to you,” she continued, “but being a mom isn’t a point against you, like you said it was. That man would beluckyto have Ben and Alice in his life.”

“I know.” I was unable to stop the tears now. “It’s not a reflection on them?—”

“It isn’t one on you, either. Have you forgotten how hot you are? There’s a reason you’ve got all these guys fighting over you.”

“No one is fighting?—”

“You mean the cop didn’t deck Dusty last weekend? Gigi told us about that, too.”

“She’s such a gossip.”

“We’re family. Gossip doesn’t count when it’s family.”

Not sure that was true, but okay.

“I need to finish making dinner,” Blair said. “Remember to layer your mascara. You want those suckers to be nice and thick. Send me a picture when you’re dressed.”

“I will.”

“Love you. Bye.”

“Love you.” I hung up and exhaled. Blair was an incredible one-person cheer team. Ten minutes on the phone, a few tears later, and I thought maybe I could do this after all. I knew Dusty wanted this date, that he wanted me. The hard part was accepting it. I’d spent ten years married to a guy who didn’t want me, not after he had me. It was a lot to unlearn.

And Dusty looked like he stepped off the April page of the shirtless firefighters calendar. It had taken gargantuan effort not to drop my jaw when I had entered the diner the other day to see his bare chest on exhibition. The man’s arms were probably thicker than my head. But he wasn’t the kind of bro who wore tight shirts to make sure his muscles were on everyone’s mindor displayed in their face. Not that I hadn’t noticed before, of course, but I was doing my best not to notice.

On full display like that, though, it was impossible not to.

He was picking me up in forty-five minutes, and I still wasn’t wearing pants. Time to suck it up and choose something.

A half-hour and six more outfits later, I settled on a black T-shirt with capped sleeves tucked into a swinging midi skirt and ankle boots. It wasn’t the fanciest thing in my closet, but the fundraiser didn’t sound like an elegant event. My outfit was safely in the middle ground. I’d applied six layers of mascara, per Blair’s instructions, and brushed my teeth.

Gigi had both of my kids, who didn’t even give me a backward glance when they took her hands and walked down the street, which had been more freeing than I anticipated. They were safe and happy and didn’t feel abandoned.

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