Page 64 of Filthy Little Midlife Fling

“We were going to get a frame to put them in, but Danny thought you might enjoy arranging them yourself,” Remy explains. As we walk toward my kitchen, his hand slides down my spine to rest on my lower back. He leans in and adds quietly, “Say the word and we’ll leave. I should have called ahead.”

Suddenly, all my anxiety vanishes. As usual, Remy is thoughtful and in tune with me. The contrast with my ex-husband couldn’t be more stark, and the last of the oily film on my skin sluices off. I glance up at him and smile, shaking my head. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Bad day?”

“Better now.”

He grins at me, and he’s so handsome I can hardly stand it. Old memories tear apart and drift away, and I walk into a sun-drenched kitchen with a gorgeous man at my side and the thoughtful boy who brought me flowers.

Remy’s hand drops off my back as we approach the dining table. Danny is carefully taking out the flowers and laying them down on the table.

“This is a pansy,” he tells me. “This is foxglove. Foxglove is really good for attracting hummingbirds because they like the shape of the flower, but it’s really toxic to humans.”

“You know a lot about flowers.”

“Remy taught me. Some boys at school made fun of me when I did a Show and Tell about plants, but then Sarah C came up to me after and said she liked what I said and asked if I could help her choose some flowers to give to her mom for Mother’s Day. And Sarah C is the prettiest girl in my whole grade, so no one made fun of me after. There are four Sarahs in my grade and Sarah C is the nicest. Maybe next year she’ll be in my class.” Danny places another flower down on the table and surveys his handiwork with his hands on his hips. Then he glances at me. “Do you like them?”

My heart is nearly too big to fit inside my ribcage. “I love them, Danny.”

He smiles. “It’s a thank you for the brownies and the pie and for dinner. Do you have any brownies today?”

Laughing, I meet Remy’s gaze. He rolls his eyes and says, “You’re shameless, kid.”

“I can whip something up for you,” I promise. “But let me find some way to display these flowers.”

Leaving the two boys, I head to the garage and rip open one of the boxes I haven’t gotten around to unpacking. Truth be told, I haven’t unpacked it since I got divorced and left our marital home. I open the old cardboard flaps and take out a large frame of brushed gold. The mat inside is rich cream with more gold edging, framing a photo of my wedding day. In it, I smile at Terry, head over heels in love, our arms wrapped around each other, the rest of our lives ahead of us and full of possibilities.

What a fool I turned out to be.

With a few quick movements, I unclip the back of the frame, pull out the photo, and slide it back into the box. Then I take the empty frame and head back to the kitchen.

“I found this,” I tell Danny, flipping the frame over so he can see the front.

“Oh, wow! Nice!”

Being an organized lady, I have an abundance of stationery and craft supplies. I find some glue and a nice thick piece of paper, and we spend the next half hour arranging the flowers and gluing them down. While they dry, I start cooking dinner. The bottle of wine I’d opened to drown out my sadness gets split between two glasses. Danny and Remy play sous-chefs for me, and I end up deciding to make a nice spread with steaks, creamy mashed potatoes, peppercorn sauce, and a fresh summer salad.

While the potatoes boil, I whip up some brownies (at Danny’s request) and stick them in the oven. I let him lick the spatula while Remy grins at the two of us. That smile banishes the last of the darkness from my mood, and I beam at him in response.

By the time the potatoes are done, the glue on the flowers has dried. We put them in the frame and admire our work. I clear off some decorative items on the mantel in the living room and rest the frame against the chimney.

“What do you think?” I ask Danny.

He nods. “I like it.”

“I do too,” I tell him. “I’ll have to figure out a way to hang it on the brick.”

“I’ll come by tomorrow with my drill,” Remy offers, sliding his hand around my shoulders.

I smile at him, then rest my head on his shoulder. The pieces of my heart that had splintered earlier today have shifted back into place. A thin thread winds through the wounds, knitting them shut. Maybe there’s a second chance for me in this life. Maybe I can have a job I love, a man who drives me wild, and a little boy who cares enough to give me the flowers he’s been drying for a year.

Maybe I can have it all.

By the time dinner is served, I’m breathing easier than I was this morning. We eat, clean up, and then I say goodbye to the boys. Remy squeezes my hand at the door, his eyes dark. I wish he didn’t have to leave.

“Can I stop by later tonight, once he’s in bed? Finish that bottle of wine? I won’t be able to stay long while Danny’s alone in the house, but we could talk about what put that look on your face earlier.”

My heart melts for this man, and I nod. “I’d like that.”

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