Page 19 of Daddy's Naughty Bartender
I open my mouth, then close it. When was the last time?
"Exactly." Beth squeezes my hand. "You've been in survival mode for five years. Maybe it's time to try living mode."
"But what if?—"
"No." Madison Grace cuts me off. "No 'what ifs.' The only question that matters is: does he make you feel alive? Because from where we're sitting, you're glowing like a woman who's finally plugged back in."
"He lives in Chicago," I say weakly.
"For now," Linda counters. "Chicago is only two and a half hours away. But he's looking at extending. That means something."
"It means Dale offered him more work."
"It means he's not ready to leave you." Elizabeth's voice goes gentle. "Karen, we've watched you hold everything together with sheer will and good bourbon. You deserve someone who sees that strength and wants to support it, not diminish it."
"He does that." The admission comes out soft. "He makes me feel... capable and cherished at the same time. Like my strength isn't a burden or a threat."
"Then what's the problem?" Barbara asks.
"I'm scared." There it is, the truth. "I'm terrified of wanting this. Of needing him. Of letting go of control and finding out I can't get it back."
The table goes quiet. Then Beth, surprising everyone, speaks up.
"You know what I was reading last night? This article about submission and power. It said—" She pulls out her phone, scrolling. "Here. 'Submission is not about weakness or losing yourself. It's about having such deep trust in another person that you can release the constant vigilance of control. It's the ultimate power move, choosing when and to whom you yield.'"
"Since when do you read articles about submission?" Madison Grace asks.
"Since my best friend started melting every time a man called her 'good girl.'" Beth winks at me. "I do my research."
"The point is," Elizabeth interjects, "submission isn't about being less than. It's about finding someone worthy of your trust. Someone who sees your surrender as the gift it is."
"Is that what you think I want? To submit?"
They all look at me with varying degrees of "duh" on their faces.
"Honey," Barbara says gently, "we've known you for years. Watched you carry the weight of the world. The way you light up when someone else takes charge? That's not weakness. That's wisdom."
"But what if he leaves?"
"What if he stays?" Linda counters. "What if you're so busy protecting yourself from possible pain that you miss out on probable joy?"
I stare into my mimosa, processing. These women have seen me through Mark's death, through single parenthood, through building the bar into something successful. They've never steered me wrong.
"So what do I do?"
"First," Elizabeth says, all business, "you go to that wine tasting tonight looking absolutely devastating. I'm talking dressed to kill, confidence to slay."
"Second," Beth adds, "you stop overthinking. Be present. Let yourself feel without analyzing every emotion."
"Third," Madison Grace grins, "you remember that wanting to be taken care of doesn't negate the badass woman you are. It enhances it."
"And fourth," Barbara finishes, "you give that man a chance to prove he's worthy of your trust. But, honey? From what we've seen? He's already proving it."
My phone buzzes. Jason's name on the screen makes my pulse jump.
Jason: Confirming tonight. 7 PM. Wear something red.
"Why are you blushing?" Elizabeth demands.
