Page 66 of Committed to You

My event is tonight. I’m not one for people making a big deal out of me, and I’m nervous. I’ve pushed the thought too many times out of my head that I wish Chase was taking me, but that isn’t happening.

As I lie on the massage table, I start to rethink not taking a date and consider several friends and acquaintances who would be more than happy to take me, but it doesn’t feel right.

When I get out of my massage, I shower then go to my locker and get dressed. Leaving the locker room, I go to the salon area of the spa for my hair and makeup appointments.

Waiting to be called by the stylist, I scroll through several messages and respond to a few texts on my phone. To torture myself, I pull up pictures of Chase and me from when I stayed at his place in New York. They are from the night I stayed in his room. We’re making silly faces in all of them except for one where I had fallen asleep in his arm, and he took a selfie of him kissing my head.

When I left to return to Chicago, he texted me the pictures. I hadn’t ever seen that one, and when he sent it, he wrote, “My bed and I miss you.”

I hadn’t slept in his room after that night. The next day, the nurse at the hospital named Carly flirted with him, and even though he denied anything was going on between them, it was another reminder that he had his girls on the side. Quinn and I stayed several more days in New York, and Chase tried to get me into his room every night, but I kept telling him no.

The stylist snaps me out of my thoughts and calls me back to her station. I throw my phone into my purse and follow her through the salon.

My mama is with me, too. Her hair appointment started before mine, and when I walk back, she’s in the chair next to me.

“Mama! You look beautiful.”

She beams. Everyone says I get my features from my mama, and I’m more than happy to give her credit. She is in her sixties but could pass for forty. Her thick hair is still long. We have the same eyes and skin tone.

My mother doesn’t speak English as well as my father. It’s hard for her, and she gets embarrassed about it, but she rarely speaks Greek when we are out in public. She thinks it’s rude to speak another language in front of others who can’t understand. Most of the time, she smiles or nods, so I’m surprised when she jumps into the conversation.

Megan, the stylist, asks, “What is the occasion?”

“I’m going to a gala.”

“No, no,” my mama says. She points to me. “Vivian get big award.”

My face flushes as the stylists at several chairs near mine make a big fuss over it.

“It’s not that big a deal,” I quickly say.

“Vivian!” my mama exclaims then pulls out her phone and pulls something up. I soon realize it’s the announcement article. My mama probably can’t understand half the words in it, but everywhere we go since it came out, she shows people.

“Mama, put that away,” I insist.

“Wow! Vivian, this is a big deal,” Megan gushes.

“Yes!” my mama practically yells, her eyes bright.

I hope they will change the subject. I’m relieved when Megan asks, “What does your dress look like?”

I pull up the picture I texted the girls a few weeks ago. It’s a floor-length red gown with a floral design in red sparkles. It’s not sparkly over the top but has just a bit of shimmer. The sleeves are long, and, at the wrists, the material falls to the floor in ruffles. Since the dress is so elaborate itself, I’ll only need a pair of earrings to accessorize it.

“Now that’s a dress,” Megan says.

I laugh. “That it is.”

“Your date is going to be one lucky guy,” the stylist named Amy, who is working on my mama’s hair says.

I smile at her. “I’m not taking a date.”

My mama tsks me. She thinks I should be married by now and is ready for grandbabies. I know what she’s thinking without her saying it.

“I hope there are some single guys there. You’re going to look amazing in that dress,” Megan says.

All I can think is, I don’t want anyone besides Chase. Then I curse myself again and remind myself that I need to get him out of my head. Thinking anything outside of the reality of Chase and his girls is setting my heart up to bleed more.

“I think we should style your hair down with that dress,” Megan tells me.

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