Page 38 of Burning Love
They hadn’t texted again until Thursday night and nothing since.
“I am. Is that a problem?”
“No,” her mother said. “Are you dating someone?”
“Maybe,” she said, moving to her closet to look for something to wear before she got in the shower. She was done working for the day now.
“Who is it?”
“I’m not telling you. I never do this early.”
Aileen moved to Talia’s bed and sat down. “You used to.”
“A long time ago,” she argued. “I haven’t once told you who I was dating at only a few weeks in since I’ve graduated from college.”
“Fair point,” her mother said. “But I always want to know.”
“And I’m not always going to tell you. You don’t need to know this early. It could fizzle. I want to work things out on my own without my mother asking me a million questions or giving me comments about things to put ideas in my head before I’m ready.”
Her mother smirked. “Fine. How many dates is it so far?” she asked. “You said you went for a drink with a friend last Friday. Then you were shopping on Saturday. You’re going out again. Is it three or two?”
Talia thought she could get away with the shopping comment last Saturday. Her car was at the mall and she came home with a pair of jeans.
Not as much as she normally bought, but it wasn’t unheard of either for her to walk around and not be able to decide on anything.
“Does it matter?” She didn’t want to give her mother the number. Once it hit a certain range, Aileen Carlisle would be even nosier than she was now.
“I suppose not. Where are you going tonight?”
“I don’t know yet. I’m meeting him and then we’ll figure it out.”
She was moving clothes around in her closet. “That doesn’t make it any easier for you to decide on what to wear.”
“Tell me about it.”
After shoving the hangers out of the way, she settled on a long cotton skirt in a pale print of tiny flowers. It had a high slit on one side and was easy to move in. Lightweight and cool on this hot day.
“That’s pretty,” Aileen said. Talia hadn’t realized her mother was in the doorway watching her now.
“Thanks.” She opened a drawer and pulled out a pastel pink T-shirt that would be fitted to her body and stopped at her belly button. The skirt rested on her hip bones. There would be about an inch of belly exposed.
Maybe she was teasing him after he’d made the comment about a crop top. Why not have some fun?
“What shoes are you wearing with it?”
She put her finger to her chin. “I don’t know. I might put my white canvas sneakers on. I don’t know where we are going.”
Her mother wrinkled her nose. “I don’t understand the sneaker and skirt or dress trend.”
“It’s about comfort, Mom.”
“In my day we huffed it around in heels until our feet bled and never let anyone know.”
“Please,” she said, waving her hand. “I’ve never seen you in heels outside of a wedding, funeral or bridal shower. I’m positive Laken would say the same.”
Her mother laughed. “I landed your father wearing heels. That’s what I meant.”
She groaned but made sure she was smiling at the same time. “Don’t talk like that to me.”
