Page 11 of Masquerade Mistake

Seven years ago, I had no idea what I was doing. I was only eighteen when the nurse placed this tiny bundle in my arms as if I could be trusted with a human life. My mom had showed up at the hospital by some miracle, though I could smell the alcohol on her from across the room. She’d offered to stay with me, and part of me was tempted to say yes since I had no idea what I was doing. Luckily, Maren was there too, and she said she was already staying with me even though we hadn’t discussed it. Between the two of us, Finn survived his first week. But once Maren left, it was just Finn and me. I remember the first night alone, feeling like a failure as Finn screamed his head off. Eventually he tired himself out, nursing noisily as he watched me with wide wary eyes.

“Look kid, I didn’t sign up for this either,” I told him. “But if we’re going to survive this, you gotta work with me. We’re on the same team, you and me. And I promise you, I will always have your back. So trust me, all right?”

And it’s like this light bulb went off. He was mine. And I was his. I’d spent most of his first week feeling like I was playing defense. I was running on fumes, stunk like spit up and shit, and felt sticky and needed a shower. But in that moment, I realized we were in this together, and would be for life. I felt a huge ball of warmth expand in my chest as I watched him nurse, and I realized I’d never loved anyone or anything with such ferocity in my life.

“Mom, I’m done!” Finn calls now from the bathroom. I hide a grin as he lets me help him out of the tub and run a towel over him. His hair is wet but unwashed, so I spray a little leave-in conditioner in it.

“Haircut tomorrow, okay buddy?”

“Okay,” he groans. He brushes his teeth, and I get all the spots he missed. Then he laughs as I swoop him into my arms, cradling him as if he were my little baby all over again. My big, heavy baby, that is. I drop him on his bed with a grunt, then make a show of stretching my back.

“You are growing up too fast,” I say, ruffling his damp hair.

Even though he’s a big kid now, he settles into bed with the blanket under his chin as I continue reading from Mrs. Piggle Wiggle, the chapter book we started earlier this week. It’s my own childhood copy, and a little worn at that. But it reminds me of younger days when my mom stayed with me at bedtime and read me stories about a little old lady who had a cure for every ailment.

“Can I stop taking a bath so I can grow plants on my arms?” Finn asks when we’re done.

“Not on your life,” I say, kissing the top of his head. “Sweet dreams, Finn bug.”

He burrows down under his blankets until I only see the top of his dark head.

“Sweet dreams, Mom bug.”

Chapter 5

As I get ready for my date with Ethan, I realize how out of practice I am. When I say out of practice, I mean that I have no experience. Zero. Zilch. Nada. I mean, does high school dating even count? My dates in high school consisted of going out with someone who thought I was cute enough to ask. My relationships were short-lived. And dates? Beyond school dances, they usually consisted of watching movies in a public area of the house to make sure we weren’t having sex. The only grown-up date I can think of is the ride home with that guy from the masquerade party, and we all know how that ended up.

Wait, do I bring condoms? No. We’re not having sex. Is it the guy’s responsibility if we do?

I scour my room, as if miraculously, a condom or chastity belt might appear. I don’t have any kind of protection at all. Why would I? I don’t date.

“Is that what you’re wearing?”

I look up from the drawer I’m rummaging through to see Maren in the doorway. Then I look down at my outfit. It’s a cardigan sweater with a pair of jeans and my favorite tennis shoes. I also have on my favorite t-shirt—the one that says, “Surely not everyone was Kung Fu fighting.”

“We’re just going out for dinner, right?”

“Right,” Maren says, heading straight to my closet. “But you’re not having dinner with me, you’re having dinner with a guy who might want to end your drought, if you catch my drift.” She starts pulling clothes off the hangers and throwing them in a pile on my bed.

“I’m not having sex with him, if that’s your drift,” I say, leafing through the clothes. “Oh, this one’s yours. You left it here last time you came over.”

She takes the black dress from my hands, then holds it in front of her. She looks at me, then back at the dress before tossing it back.

“Put it on,” she commands, and I stare at her.

“Maren, you’re like a toothpick. There’s no way this will fit me.”

“It will,” she promises. “You have perfect curves, and this will show off every one of them.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I mutter. But I do it anyway. As I’m changing, Finn shuffles into the room and joins my clothes pile on the bed. He has his RC stunt car with him, and he sets to work making a mountain racing course with the pile, driving the car over buttons and zippers into pleats and cuffed hems.

“This is too tight,” I insist to Maren. The dress clings to every inch of me, with a neckline that reveals a bit more cleavage than I’m comfortable with. The back is even lower, proving there’s no safe way to wear a bra with it. At least my ass isn’t showing, but it’s shorter than my favorite pair of shorts. I start to tug it down, but I stop when I realize it just enhances the view of my cleavage.

Maren’s eyes are wide, and her smile grows into something wicked.

“It’s perfect, but I agree, it’s not totally you.”

I start to tug it off, but she clears her throat and gives me a narrow-eyed look.She tosses me a loose crop top sweater from the back of my closet.

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