Page 72 of Enough
She says he’s being secretive about the whole thing, and it has her nervous and excited at the same time. We promise to compare dates first thing in the morning, and when I say date, she doesn’t deny it this time. I call that progress.
I must change at least ten times. Nothing Gwen brings over seems to make me feel the way I want to feel and most of it is too tight. I search through every item in my closet and still can’t find something to make me feel proud. My phone pings with a text from Grandma Kay.
Kay:I hope you get this. Kale says I’m doing just fine with the texting. I forgot to tell you that I left you a little something. It’s hanging in Marlow’s closet. She wanted to look at itand I forgot I left it there. I brought it over the other night. I don’t know why, but I think your daddy told me to. Kale said I’m not supposed to write this much and that I’m slow. Have fun, songbird.
I practically run into Marlow’s room. When I see it hanging on the door, I almost burst into tears. It’s my mom’s blue dress. She bought it for my graduation and never got to wear it. She said she saw it in the store window and daddy told her to splurge. He had said, “Our only child only graduates once!”
I hold it up to me and pray that it fits. I rush to the bathroom and unzip it before carefully stepping into it and lifting it around my waist. I reach behind me and slowly zip it up as far as I can before I raise my hands above my head to zip it the rest of the way. I breathe deeply before I open my eyes to see how I look. When I finally gaze at myself in the mirror, my hands fly to my mouth. I look just like my mom, and the dress fits me perfectly.
The long sleeves are lacy and blue. It fits at the waist and flows out slightly. It’s a little above the knee and shorter than I’m used to wearing, but as I back away from the mirror to get a better look, I’m amazed that my legs don’t seem bad in it. The center of the dress scoops downward and reveals a slight bit of cleavage. I giggle to myself and wonder if I can pull it off. I run into the bedroom and pull out a black push-up bra that I haven’t worn in years. I remove the dress, put on the new bra and black suctioning panties, and everything fits and lifts appropriately.
I mentally attempt to prepare myself for dinner with Nick. I take deep breaths and tell myself he’s just some guy and it’s no big deal, but my nerves are all over the place. My insecuritiesthreaten just below the surface. I try not to question his motivation for wanting to see me again, but the idea that he has something to prove fills me with doubt.
I leave my hair down but curl the ends just a bit. I’m proud of myself for being ready ten minutes before I need to leave for the restaurant. He wanted to pick me up, but I insisted I meet him instead. In the few minutes before I need to leave, I pace the length of the kitchen in Gwen’s heels mostly to practice walking in them. I pray I don’t trip as I stumble to my minivan. When Nick told me the name of the restaurant, I checked it out online. Leave it to him to pick an upscale place. I actually believe I’d fit in there in this dress. I feel amazing and beautiful.
When I arrive, I valet park just as Nick advised and make my way into the restaurant. The lighting is low. Not so low that you can’t see people’s faces, but enough to make me feel a little sleepy. I almost yawn, but I stop myself.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes, I’m meeting someone for dinner.”
“Name please?” the hostess asks.
“Nick Rowen.”
“Right this way. Mr. Rowen is waiting.”
She seems to look me over. I’m probably being paranoid. The front windows are massive, and there’s a fireplace blazing in the corner. I’m glad it’s warm since I didn’t wear a coat. I didn’t want to wear my parka with such a pretty dress. I imagine how I’d look if I had, and I shake my head at the thought.
I’m shaking with increased anxiety, and I try to remind myself that it’s just dinner. But if it’s a date, then I’m screwed. I don’t remember the last time I was on a date, and I certainly don’t remember how to act on one. I feel a bit flustered.
We turn the corner and the view is spectacular. There are about twenty tables all with fine white tablecloths and candles burning brightly for centerpieces. The candles cast a glow on people’s faces, and even though the room is dark, it’s not hard to see. The hostess stops for a moment to search for Nick. I think I see him before she does. My breath hitches in my chest.
He’s seated in the centermost position in the restaurant. He’s wearing a dark grey suit and a dark tie. It fits him like a glove, like it was made for him. Shit, maybe it was. Aside from the fact that he helps coach soccer, I know nothing about him. I instantly regret not Googling him as Gwen suggested.
As the hostess scans the tables for him, I continue to observe him from the wall. He’s leaning back in his chair, and his hand is slowly wiping the condensation from his glass of water. He’s deep in thought. His serious expression is smoldering. I’m no longer cold. I feel a sudden warmth pass through me as I gaze at him from afar. Two beautiful women in tiny skirts angle their way past him, and he doesn’t even raise his eyes in their direction. Was Gram right all along? Does he really only have eyes for me?
“There he is.” The hostess points in the direction I’m already staring, and I tell her I can make it the rest of the way. She heads back to her station, but I catch her watching me curiously as she leaves.
I take a deep breath, flip my hair, pucker my lips, and straighten my dress before I take a step toward him. The soft knock of my heels on the dark wooden floors is muffled by the voices nearby. He’s so focused on his drink, I wonder if he’d even notice if I tripped. Then I pray I don’t trip and take my next steps very cautiously.
When I’m three feet away, his eyes lift to me and he takesa deep, savoring breath before a small crooked smile lifts the corner of his mouth. I can’t take my eyes off that smile. Within a second it’s a full-on grin. He places his hand over his heart and stands as I approach. His face is framed by dark stubble, and his hair is perfectly styled. He appears to have walked out of a magazine.
“You’re captivating.” He holds out his hand for mine, and when he has it, he presses it to his lips. He’s not the same boy I remember. This man has been around. He’s sophisticated and worldly. It makes me nervous and excites me at the same time. The stubble of his face glides across the skin of my hand, and my stomach reminds me of her desire to feel it too. He holds out my chair and slides me forward.
“Nice place,” I say, waving my hand at my face.
“I hoped you’d like it. Have you been here before?” he asks as he pulls out his chair.
“Oh yeah,” I stammer confidently. “The kids and I come here all the time for pancakes.” He smirks and I smile. “No, I’ve never been. It’s a little out of single-mom price range.”
He sits and adjusts his tie into place. “Well, you’re with me tonight, and I want you to dine in a place that comes close to deserving you.”
I can’t help the blush of my cheeks. I’ve only eaten at a place this nice once when I had to go out to a business dinner with Mike. I gently place my napkin on my lap and feel slightly ruffled as our waiter approaches.
“Good evening, Mr. Rowen. So good to have you with us again. Would you care to see a wine list?”
“That won’t be necessary, Rodrick. How do you feel about a red?” he asks me.
