Page 35 of Beautiful Mess

Fifteen

Grace

“Blakely, come on. We’re going to be late if we don’t leave right now.”

“Mooooom!”Feet stomping across the hardwood floor like she pays the mortgage as she rounds the corner, she glares at me while tossing her hair up into a bun. I swear, parenting preteen girls is not for the weak. Blakely is ten going on sixteen. “Why are you always rushing me?”

Opening the door that leads to the garage, I step to the side, gesturing for her to go. “Well, maybe because you move like a sloth and we’re going to be late.”

“I was just looking for my pink scrunchie,” she grumbles, then storms past me.

“Babe, you knew gymnastics was tonight. Maybe next week, get your stuff ready ahead of time so we aren’t scrambling at the last minute.”

That earns me a scoff and nothing more, but at least we’re finally in the car. The amount of attitude and drama that comes from my once sweet little girl would be alarming if I didn’t know with absolute certainty she got it from me. Backing out of my driveway, my phone connects to Bluetooth, and before the first song even has a chance to start, Blakely is barking out requests from the back.

“Can you put on Taylor Swift?”

Eyeing my daughter in the rearview mirror, I say, “How about a ‘please’?”

“Ugh, please!” I don’t miss the eye roll before I put the car in drive and start down our street. You’d think I was asking her to saw her own arm off by expecting her to use some manners. Attitude aside, it is pretty cool when your kids love the same things you do, especially music, since that was something my mom and I had in common too.

Turning on my favorite Taylor playlist at the stop sign, I take a left, pulling onto the main road that’ll eventually lead us to the gymnastics studio. Luckily, it’s only about a five-minute drive, so we shouldn’tactuallybe late, but we’re cutting it close. It’s funny, I’m constantly late for my own stuff, but when it comes to my kids, I suddenly have the ability to be on time. Well, assuming my kids get their butts in gear.

My heart thumps as I realize what I just said. Last night flashes in my mind when I said the very same thing, but in a much different context to somebody else entirely. Biting back the smile trying to curve my lips, I shift in my seat, the ache between my legs and on my ass making itself known. I’m still trying to process everything that happened last night.

The flirty texts.

The pictures.

Me inviting him over.Andhim following through.

I let Conway spank me. Nobody has ever done something like that to me, and before last night, I didn’t even think it would be something I was into. But I was…like, a lot. The way I was on the verge of coming by the time we got to five was wild. Then the way he flipped me over and blew my mind with only his tongue and fingers was…earth shattering. I mean, hell, I fuckingsquirted.I thought that was a myth!

Prior to Conway, I’ve only slept with two other men. Cole, hisson, who wasn’t the greatest at sex. Although, what high school guy is all that great in bed? He was kind of selfish, though, to be honest. In the five or so years we were together, I can count on one hand the number of times he ate me out, and I don’t need any hands to count the number of times he made me come. And then there’s Ethan, who was never overly sexual. Of course, in the beginning, we’d have sex semi-regularly, but it was very…vanilla. We never did anything adventurous or talked about kinks or fantasies. Intimacy fizzled out a lot after Blakely was born. Looking back, I think it had more to do with Ethan not being into sex withmethan not into sex in general, but it still really messed with my head. Feeling like I wasn’t desirable and constantly worrying that my husband didn’t find me sexy anymore. And after having two kids back-to-back, and watching my body change in ways I never could’ve prepared for, it was hard to not let that get to me.

Nerves flutter low in my belly the closer we get, and my palms sweat as I grip the steering wheel. I’m not sure how to feel, knowing I’m about to see Conway. Mostly because I don’t know where we stand. It was obvious he wasveryinto everything we did, and then after, he cuddled with me as I fell asleep.

It’s been a long time since I’ve cuddled with somebody who wasn’t my kids, and I didn’t realize how much I missed it. I’ve always been a cuddler, very into any sort of physical touch, but Ethan never was. It was a miracle any time I got him to cuddle with me when we watched a movie or when we were going to bed. He always complained he was too hot or that my hair was in his face or that he couldn’t get comfortable. Something about being held by strong arms, feeling their heart beat against my ear, and soaking in their warmth gives me such a sense of security. It’s calming.

But then I woke up alone, and it felt like a sucker punch to the gut. I’m sure Conway was simply trying to be considerate of the fact that my kids were home, and he most likely knew I wouldn’t want to risk them finding him in my bed. I have no way of knowing that for sure, though, because the asshole hasn’t talked to me at all today. Not even a single text. I can’t help but feel embarrassed and silly…and maybe a little hurt too. What is this to Conway? Am I just some hot piece of ass to him? Somebody to have fun with? Why wouldn’t he text me this morning? Even a quick message to explain why he left… Is that really so hard?

Was it not as good for him as it was for me? Isthatwhy he hasn’t reached out?

Thisis why I do my best to avoid hookups. Clearly, I’m not cut out for this, so why did I invite him over? Deep down, I know I’ve caught feelings. It’s what I do best, falling for men I shouldn’t. Men who have a track record of being allergic to commitment. Conway and I could never be together—I’vealwaysknown this—yet I did it anyway, and look where it got me. I’m a spiraling ball of nerves, and as I pull into a spot in the parking lot at gymnastics, my gut twists and my body temperature spikes, causing a cold sweat to break out along the back of my neck.

God, what a fucking mess I’ve gotten myself into.

Way to go, Grace.

I’m a grown-ass woman and a successful businesswoman. I know I’m attractive. There’s no reason a man should be making me feel this way. It’s absurd.

Blakely hops out at the same time I do, bouncing with excitement, and I try to lean into that instead of making myself nauseous with my famous overthinking. It’s going to be fine. It’s not like Conway and I can discuss what happened in there anyway. It’s only as awkward as I make it, so I need to chill the heck out.Easier said than done,I think to myself with a huff.

Once we get inside, Blakely runs over to the cubbies, and makes quick work of removing her zip-up, shorts, and shoes before running into the gym to join her class. The seating area is full tonight, and as I’m looking for a place to sit, my eyes connect with somebody I wasn’t expecting.

“Hey, Grace!” Nicolette, Conway’s ex-wife and Willow’s mom, waves before patting the chair beside her. “You can sit next to me, if you’d like.”

Smiling at her, I wave, trying my best not to bump into anybody as I weave through the other parents toward the empty seat. Another wave of nausea hits me, and I have to breathe through my nose to try to calm myself down. It’s certainly not the first time I’ve seen Nicolette here, but itisthe first time seeing her since I slept with her ex-husband, and everything about that feels uncomfortable. Not to mention the annoying disappointment I feel seeing her face when I was expecting Conway.

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