“Maybe you can get a manicure tomorrow, too.” Tonya shuddered, because the fingertips on Layla’s left hand looked a little ragged, and her short nails were devoid of polish.
The calluses were starting to form and a few of them were already peeling. The aching in her hand felt good to Layla, because it was a welcome and familiar pain. “You want me to leave the house and you want my hands to look nice? Don’t push it.”
“Just be ready to go tomorrow night, and don’t text me with some bullshit excuse.”
* * *
On Saturday night, Layla put on her nicest jeans, a cute top, and a pair of heels. At the restaurant, there was a third person sitting at the table with Tonya and Tim—a coworker of Tim’s named Drew who just happened to be free tonight, they hoped Layla didn’t mind. Drew was handsome in a Disney-prince kind of way, with his wavy blond hair and gleaming teeth. His smile was genuine, and when he shook her hand she wished she had gotten that manicure after all, because a little nail polish never hurt anything.
“Are you mad?” Tonya asked after dinner when they went to the bathroom to check their lipstick.
“No. I knew it was a setup when you suggested the manicure.”
“Well, if you’re not even going to consider online dating, I had to get creative. Wait, you knew, and you came anyway? Interesting.”
“Don’t read too much into it. I’m tired of freezer meals and drinking alone.”
“Tim said he’s really nice. Everyone likes him at work,” Tonya said.
“He seems great,” Layla said. “But the thought of starting a new relationship exhausts me. I thought if I came out tonight, that maybe if I met someone in person, I’d feel differently. But if a man like that can’t tempt me out of hibernation, the problem isn’t with him. It’s with me.”
“I just want you to find someone who’s as wonderful as you are.”
“So do I. But it’s not going to be tonight.”
“Well, Tim and I will be receiving a call from our babysitter in about ten minutes telling us that Ian threw up. Not true, but that’s our way of leaving the two of you to your own devices while I make out in the car with my husband across the street in the mall parking lot. The kids keep busting in on us at the most inopportune times and Tim’s about to explode.”
“The amount of planning that went into this is truly impressive,” Layla said. “Go. It won’t kill me to converse with a man. I almost remember how it’s done.”
“Call me tomorrow and tell me everything. Embellish the story to make it worth my while.”
Layla laughed and hugged Tonya. “I’ll do my best.”
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, when Tim and Tonya had beaten a hasty retreat, Drew flagged down the waiter and asked him to bring back their menus. “How about dessert? It’s not a ploy to get you to stay longer. I’ll just never understand the concept of tiny plates of food. I’m still hungry. Like, really super hungry.”
She laughed and he smiled warmly at her. When the waiter returned with the menus, she opened hers and said, “I like chocolate cake.”
He ordered two, and when they were digging into them with their forks, she felt a pang of regret. So much of what happened in life came down to timing. He was a great catch and he’d undoubtedly make some woman incredibly happy, but she felt nothing, so she had no choice but to remove the hook and throw him back.
“My ex-husband and I divorced a little over six months ago and now my friends are trying to set me up and, well, you know. Everyone seems to think that the answer to a failed relationship is another relationship,” Layla said.
“Ah, matchmaking friends who mean well. I remember those days. Don’t worry. It’ll die down eventually.”
“I guess I’m in that weird transitional place,” she said. “How about you?”
“I’ve been divorced for a few years now,” he said, and she could sense a sort of desperation behind the words because he’d been at this longer than she had and maybe he’d grown weary of it not working out yet. Maybe all he wanted was to find the right person so he could stop doing it.
“How did you know you were ready?” she asked when there was nothing left of the cake but a few errant swirls of chocolate sauce on the plate.
“It was just a feeling I had. You’ll know it when it happens.”
“Please don’t think it’s you. It’s not you at all. It’s me. I’m not ready. I just need to be alone for a while.”
“That sounds lonely,” he said, and he looked at her in a way that cut her to the quick. She wondered if three years from now she’d be the one sitting across from the newly single guy and it would be her desperation that was palpable. She hoped not, but she also knew that jumping into something too soon wasn’t the answer, either.
And she wasn’t lonely, not really. Layla had been lonely for years while she was married, and she’d take being alone over lonely any day.
chapter 12
Josh
“Hey, Sash. Go put your stuff in your room. Norton’s sleeping on your bed,” Josh said when Kimmy brought her back on Friday. He waited until Sasha was out of earshot and then he turned to Kimmy and said, “Am I supposed to be receiving something? I haven’t gotten any paperwork or anything.”
About the only thing they agreed on when they ended the marriage was that neither of them wanted to pay hefty attorney fees or go through a dragged-out divorce process, so they worked out the terms on their own. It was amicable as far as separations went. Neither of them had any big ax to grind. There hadn’t been any cheating. No lying. No one had a drug problem or gambled away their savings. It was more or less an even split, so they’d agreed upon an uncontested divorce and Kimmy suggested an attorney one of her coworkers had recommended. Josh had given Kimmy the information she’d requested, mostly financial and the rest having to do with Sasha and how they’d agreed to split custody of her, and she’d given everything to the attorney. Once Josh received the documents, he’d let his attorney—someone his dad had used in the past and been happy with—look over everything to make sure it was fair and what they’d agreed upon. It should have been a slam dunk, but he’d been waiting for paperwork since May. Now it was almost the end of October and a couple of people had put the thought into his head that maybe Kimmy had decided to hire a different lawyer. Go for full custody or more assets, although he didn’t see how any of that would ever fly in court. But everyone kept warning him how divorce changed people until suddenly they decided that what they’d agreed upon was no longer good enough.
“I’ve been busy,” Kimmy said, and for the first time in a long time her tone was a mix of defensive and wounded instead of the polite, sterile way they now spoke to each other. As if they were merely acquaintances and not two people who had been together since they were eighteen years old and whose child was made of their combined DNA. “Why? Have you met someone?” she asked.
“What? No, I’m just following up,” he said.
“I’ll call the attorney on Monday.”