Page 8 of Sweet Everythings

Better Half

Hope

Thankfully, the full brunt of my failure didn’t hit until I’d safely ensconced myself within my own four walls.

Four metaphorical walls I owed to Lucky.

Years ago, his grandparents owned a farm. Eventually, the farm fell into disuse and the land was sold to a developer. Part of the deal included the option of a residential unit to each grandchild at cost. That and somehow honoring the name, ‘Mulberry’.

I remember how excited Lucky’s parents were when the entire development became Mulberry Place.

Over the years, as the development progressed, each of Lucky’s siblings exercised their option.

Long before I had Brayleigh, Lucky exercised his option on my behalf. The fact of which still left me flabbergasted.

And was also the reason why so many of us lived in Mulberry Place.

My place was in one of the taller buildings.

I leaned over the edge of Brayleigh’s crib and ran my fingers through her wild curls. Like me, when she was out, she was out for the night. There was no fear of waking her.

Not too long ago, she was as bald as a cue ball. Time raced. I ran my hand down the length of her side, halfway tempted to pick her up and tuck her into bed beside me.

I sighed. I was so going to be one of those clingy mothers if I wasn’t careful. With a final gentle pat on her diapered rump, I padded down the hall to my bedroom.

I redecorated it while I was on maternity leave with Brayleigh. With drapey fabrics in soft natural colors, matching rattan chairs, and sturdy wood furniture, it was a soothing oasis of café-au-lait, moss green, and buttery cream with grounding touches of deepest indigo. Designed in part to suit the elusive gentleman that thus far existed only in my dreams.

Much to my feminist chagrin.

I closed my bedroom door and slid down it to park my ass on the floor. The same old tears flowed unbidden and unwelcome. With no one to bear witness, I let them follow their timeworn path.

I rolled my head back against the door.

What would it take for me to set dreams of romance aside and allow something else to fulfil me?

A pang of guilt burrowed into my heart. Why wasn’t Brayleigh enough?

Truthfully, she wasn’t the greatest conversationalist. I laughed at my own joke, the solitary echo wiping the smile from my face.

Taking a deep breath, I swiped my sleeve across my face.

I had a great job in my field that allowed me to utilize my best skills. I loved dressing the models and I was good at it. My background in design made styling the shoots a breeze, and choosing pieces for the new season always excited me. Further, my job offered opportunity for occasional travel, something I’d always enjoyed. But was it big enough to fill the gaping hole of my yearning?

Of course not.

I frustrated myself.

Logically, I did not want what my mom and dad had. They were far too wrapped up in each other, and the dynamic between them made me shudder. She lived a life of service. First to him, then to me. Now also to Brayleigh. Which I appreciated, but didn’t she want more?

I mean, other than my theoretical wedding.

For as long as I could remember she’d dreamed of that glorious day, coaching me to treat my husband well. My dreams, when I attempted to share them, were deemed an excellent filler until ‘the one’ came along.

I bought into her vision lock, stock, and barrel.

For awhile.

Then my male friends began to fall away, led off by the hand by their suspicious girlfriends. Female friends were few and far between. I didn’t share their love of game-playing, even with each other, often struggling to understand the dynamics of those relationships.

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