Page 76 of Ella Gets the D
Free time is a luxury I’m still acquainting myself with, and it doesn’t require people to fill it now that I’m single. If I want company, I’ll call up the girls, but I’m comfortable enjoying my own presence without buffers.
My phone buzzes with a text. Speaking of friends.
Morgan
Girl, your little stunt with the mom exec is the talk of the town. Did you at least record it so I can watch Tiffany lose her shit in slo-mo?
Tonight, I reaffirmed boundaries to shed the weight of things that no longer serve me. My departure from school volunteer duties left the parent-teacher group aghast. Not one person cares about my well-being, only about the gossip they share and mold in their hands. My separation is still an official agenda item, with questions about why I left, how I can afford to live in DC, and whether I’m screwing up my children’s lives—as if Charles screwing another woman didn’t take first place for that.
The space my divorce is creating widened the gap between the image I felt obligated to maintain and people not worth pleasing. Amy and I still keep in touch, but with the first week of school officially done, she’ll fill her days planning activities for the remainder of the year with people who talk behind my back while praising my organizing talents to my face.
It felt good to say no and even better to leave them in my rearview mirror for a date with a bistro table facing a black brick wall, amazing food, good ambiance, and myself.
I didn’t, but remember when Jody Sawyer turned down that uptight ballet company in Center Stage? Imagine that.
Morgan
A queen remains undefeated. Enjoy your date night. Miss you.
Miss you too.
“Banana cue and a mango mojito.” Tala sets down a plate of skewered sweet plantains fried to perfection in a caramelized drizzle and a drink that tempts me to run away to the tropics.
My brows pinch. “I didn’t order that.”
“The guy at the bar did.” She smiles and nods behind us.
I follow her gaze to a man with broad shoulders in a striped lapel neck shirt over khaki shorts. Thick lips curve into a relaxed grin.
Julian.
Our eyes meet with the same magnetic pull as when he walked through the kitchen door a few days ago. He texted to ask if it was okay since Jackson and Haile were with me, and they couldn’t reach him fast enough with grins that stretched across their tiny faces. The tenderness he displayed for my children had me fighting to hold back tears. Until his dark lashes lifted from my entire world to me and sucked the air from the room. My skin prickled at his touch when he gathered me into his arms and whispered my name into my hair.
Julian spent most of the summer in London. He wanted to come back in July but had to finish work for a client.
“Um, you two know each other?” Tala’s attention shifts between us.
My lips wrap around the paper straw for a pull of my favorite summer drink—another detail Julian locked away in his memory. I smile. “Something like that.”
I never told Julian I was coming here tonight. Yet, here we are.
He shakes his head and mouths,Date night, to keep me from joining him at the bar.
I roll my eyes and reach for my phone.
What are you doing here? Also, thanks for the mojito.
He looks over his shoulder and reaches for his phone. Pursed lips and quick fingers respond.
Julian
Anytime, sweetheart. Here to grab a drink and catch up with my friend. He owns the bar. Put your phone away and get back to your date night.
Laughter bubbles through me. He picks the one day I dine alone to visit a friend and look all fine? “I didn’t want to see you, anyway,” I mumble to myself and swivel back to give these plantains my full attention.
Cue another shimmy. Between the mojito and this dessert, I’m soaring above the clouds with no plans to come down.
My phone dings again.
