Page 6 of The One I Love
She waves her away. “Don’t you worry. He’s all bark and no bite. Plus, I’ll have my wing woman next to me on the dance floor, so it will be no problem.”
Betsy looks over to me. Wait. Am I the wing woman? “Excuse me, what?”
“You’re going to be on the dance floor next to me.”
“I am?”
“You are,” Betsy says as she slides next to me. “The way I see it, you’re single. I’m not single, but if my man doesn’t get his head out of his ass soon, I’m going to be. I can’t have the fun tonight I wanted to, so I’m going to play matchmaker and find you a hottie on the Fury. And then if I find one to dance with to drive Wes a little crazy, you’ll be there in case something goes down. It’s a win-win.”
I shake my head. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because.” I stammer for a second, because there are many, many reasons I can’t do that, but none seem to be coming to mind right now. “My kids are going to be there.”
Yes. The kids. Perfect. I love my kids for many reasons, but using them to get out of shit I don’t want to do has to be my favorite.
Betsy narrows her eyes. “So you’re telling me you can’t dance with a guy because your grown children will be there?”
“Yes. That’s exactly it.”
“I thought the kids were leaving early to watch Wes’s kids?”
I shoot a glance at Whitley, who should be on my side for this. “Yeah, but I don’t know what time that’s going to be.”
“Amelia, even if they are there when it happens, I don’t think seeing you having a harmless dance with a man is going to send them to therapy.”
She’s right. My kids wouldn’t care—and they’ll be at therapy one day for many different reasons. To be honest, I’m pretty sure they’d dance around me, cheering me on, if they saw me living a little.
“It’s just that I don’t…I don’t date much. I tried it. It’s not my thing. And I’ve never done it in front of my kids.”
“Oh,” Betsy says. “Well, that’s normal. Not wanting your kids to meet someone until it’s serious.”
I shake my head. “I know. I tried a few years ago. But we either didn’t click, or the guys got wind of it and they went into big brother mode and scared them off. At the end of the day, it was more of a hassle than anything. So I’ve just, I don’t know, given up.”
“Nope. I refuse that statement,” Betsy says. “Now we’re definitely doing it. I’m on a mission to get you laid.”
“Whoa,” I say. “I haven’t even agreed to you finding me someone todance with.”
“Fine. We’ll start with dancing. But we all know where that can lead.”
Betsy wags her eyebrows as I shake my head. “Absolutely not. I can’t do that.”
“What can’t you do?”
I turn toward the door to see my daughter, Mariah, in the doorway of the bridal suite. She looks stunning in her junior bridesmaid’s dress, which is the same shade as our pale pink dresses. I have to remind myself she’s only thirteen. She looks so grown up.
“Nothing,” I say.
“That’s a lie,” Whitley says. “Mariah, what would you think if your mom danced with a guy tonight?”
“I’d say ‘get it, Mom!’ As long as he’s fine. And knows not to wear brown shoes with black pants.”
“See?” Whitley says. “Mariah’s seal of approval with standards that should be commended.”
I shoot my daughter a look. “You’re no help and grounded for a week.”
“No, I’m not. But it’s cute that you thought you could.”
