Page 79 of Merry Little Midlife Matchmaker

I shook my head, even though she couldn’t see me. “We’re done. It’s fine. It was a bad idea to get involved to begin with. I’m not surprised it all blew up in my face.”

“You sound different.”

“I’m cleaning out my closet.”

“Huh.”

“I’m sick of wearing things I don’t like. And I’m also not saving the nice towels for guests. Those are mine now. And I don’t have special-occasion candles and bath stuff anymore. I’m using everything on me. And I’m buying nice undies.”

Laurel was quiet for a moment, then let out a soft breath. “Good, Lizzie. That’s really good.”

My throat got tight, and I wasn’t quite sure why. “Yeah. It’s good.”

“You got plans for dinner?”

“I think I have a frozen pizza in the freezer,” I told her.

She snorted. “You sound very calm for someone having a nervous breakdown.”

“That’s offensive.”

Laurel laughed. “I had dinner at Audrey’s last night, and she sent me home with way too many leftovers,” she told me, naming one of her best friends that had recently married the town mechanic. “They’re having a quiet family day today, so what do you say I come over and we make turkey and stuffingsandwiches? I can help you with the closet clean-out project, and then we can watch bad made-for-TV movies.”

“And make sure my nervous breakdown doesn’t escalate?”

“That too.”

I laughed and was surprised to find it felt really, really good. “Sure,” I said. “I’ll see you soon.”

When I hung up, I saw a message from Isaac. I called him, and he put the kids on for a quick conversation. They were thrilled with their days and admitted they’d eaten chocolate for breakfast. When I hung up, I was still smiling.

I’d taken the day for myself, done exactly what I wanted to do, and everything had worked out just fine. My kids were still happy, and I was no less of a mother for having used the nice towels and spent the day thinking of myself.

By the time Laurel came over, I’d finished sorting most of my clothes and found some sweatpants and a cozy sweatshirt to wear.

She gave me a tight hug, stared in my eyes, and nodded. “You decide if you want to tell me what happened between you and Mr. Hunky McHunkerson and The Butler Christmas Disaster.”

Even an oblique reference to him sent a spear through my chest. I wasn’t ready to face the storm of feelings lurking beneath the surface. “I think that might be the least interesting thing about the past couple of days, to be honest.”

She grinned. “Sounds like it. Show me the damage you’ve done to your closet.”

I made a detour to the kitchen, where I poured us both vats of wine, and then led Laurel up to the bedroom. She whistled at the sight of the piles on the floor. I kicked the first one and said, “Trash,” then the second, “Donate,” and then the third, “Keep until I can replace with things that fit properly.” I pointed to the scant few items that had survived my purge. “Those are the clothes that actually fit that I still like.”

“I’m going to call Audrey tomorrow and tell her about this. She’s a closet organizer. She can change your life.”

“I’m not sure I can afford her.”

Laurel waved a hand. “Friends and family discount,” she said. “Don’t you want a gorgeous closet that makes you happy every time you open it?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. “Yes,” I finally told her. “I do.”

Laurel’s eyes sparkled as she grinned, then she took a sip of wine. “I like this version of you, Lizzie.”

The empty closet before me felt like it was full of possibilities. I took a deep breath and said, “I like this version of me too.”

We didn’t talk about Sean or the kiss or anything that had happened before or after, and I was grateful that Laurel didn’t push it. We drank wine, ate leftovers, then watched enough TV that we got hungry again and made the frozen pizza too. I felt a little bit naughty, but mostly I felt great.

And I realized, when she finally left, that today hadn’t taken anything away from my life as a whole. I hadn’t suddenly become a bad mother or a terrible, irresponsible adult. I just felt more like me.

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