The Hot One

Nicole tilts her head back and forth, like she’s weighing Penny’s observation. Then she utters a quiet, “That’s true.”


“Why don’t we let Delaney find out for herself?” Penny asks us through the reflection. “Go out with him and see how much he has changed.”

As I adjust a sapphire blue wig, I don’t just marinate on Penny’s questions about Tyler. I turn them back on myself. Sure, I want to know how he’s different, but I already see signs of that. What I also want to know is this—how have I changed?

I’d like to think I’ve changed for the better. I want to believe that my career shift from the sharp edges of law to the more peaceful waves of massage made me a better person. But, did it? A pebble wedges into the corner of my heart. Irritating and completely unpleasant, it’s a reminder that I didn’t tell Tyler the whole truth about my change of heart regarding my career. I didn’t open up fully to him about the phone call with my dad, even though Tyler seemed patently honest with me.

Do I need to share that detail with him? It’s not like I hid something terrible from him.

But even so, I didn’t tell him the full truth at the time, and I haven’t told him now either. I know why I hold back—if I don’t share everything I might not be fully hurt. By keeping parts of myself just for me, I like to think I can guard them from hurt.

I know that’s not true though.

We can’t ever protect ourselves from hurt, from broken hearts, from damaged love.

But we can try to live our lives differently.

If people do change, I sure as hell ought to be looking at myself first. It should start with me.

As I run my fingers through the blue hair, I vow to tell him the full story about why I didn’t go to law school, even if I feel like I’m taking off all my armor with the mere mention of my father’s words—words that had sent my future into a whole new direction.

This chance with Tyler isn’t only a romantic one. It’s an opportunity to face the past and deal with the future.

I raise my chin and stare at my friends. “One week. I’m going to give it a week.”

Penny shrieks and claps. Nicole nods solemnly then drapes her arm around me.

“Group hug,” Nicole says, and we all join in, setting aside our differences and coming together.

They might come at my love life from opposite sides, but in the end I have what any girl wants from her friends—solidarity. Maybe it’s odd, maybe a tad controlling, that my friends have so much say in my love life. But they’re my family, we’re as close as sisters, and I need them in the same bone-deep, always-there-for-me manner. We stick our noses into each other’s lives more than most, but we do it out of love.

Theirs is a love I never worry might leave. That’s why they are my inner circle. That’s why they have my unconditional trust.

“One week,” Nicole echoes. “You have my full support. But you need to decide at the end of the week. If you keep giving him more and more time, then you’re giving him the keys to breaking your heart, and trust me on this—a broken heart the second time around doesn’t just hurt twice as much. The pain is exponentially greater.”

Human beings always have the keys to breaking each other’s hearts. One week, one year, a lifetime—doesn’t matter. We can always hurt the ones we love. Even so, I do understand why she wants me to be wise, and on this time limit, I have to agree with her. “I’ll give it a week.” Then my tone lightens, and I shrug like this is no big deal. “What’s the harm in a week?”

Neither replies, and I hope I don’t answer my own question the hard way.

“We’ll be here no matter what.” Nicole grips my shoulder, then whispers, “Especially if you decide at the end of the week you really want Trevor instead.”

I laugh. “Yeah, about Trevor . . .”

Nicole arches a brow. “What about him?”

I update my friends on the latest as we find a perfect wig for my ex-boyfriend, who’s now jostled his way to the front of the dating pack. I buy the wigs and drop them in a canvas bag, then we head to our Girls’ Night Out, enjoying dancing, drinks, and friendship, as I reflect on whether people can change.

I think about my mom and how strong she was after my father left. She was always a tough woman, but she had to shore up that foundation when she became a single parent, remaining sturdy for us. That’s change, too—it’s the kind that intensifies your core. I think of my brother and how easy it would have been for him to turn into a fuck-up, a messed-up teenage boy who skipped school after his daddy left. Instead, he doubled down on his studying and, like me, he won a scholarship to college.

We were forced to change.

But do we only change when we have no choice? A fault line had split our lives into before and after, and we had to shed our old selves. Can men and women, wanting to win back an old flame, choose to change in a deep and true way?

I don’t have the answers to that, but as I rewind to the morning, and the night before, and the massage table earlier in the week, and the phone calls, I know Tyler and I are more than two elements in a beaker that combust on contact.

We are more than the physical.

We combust for so many reasons. Because of history, of emotion, of connection, of respect, of need, of understanding.

Because of a once-great love.

And because of who he is now, the man I’m spending time with these days.

That’s why at the end of the night, after I find my way home and settle into bed, I write back to Trevor.



* * *



Dear Trevor,



* * *



Your trip sounds amazing, and I know you’re going to have a great time. I want you to know that while I’m confident we would have a fantastic date, I need to cancel before we even start. In the last few days, after we went out, someone has come back into my life, and I’m going to explore what’s there. It wouldn’t be fair to keep you both in play.

That’s why I need to send this email now, before I give it a go with him. Rather than hedge my bets, even though I know you’d be a great guy to bet on and you’ll make someone ridiculously happy, I should say thank you and good-bye.

My best,

Delaney



* * *



After I hit send, the stone in my heart shrinks, claiming less of my real estate. There’s more to say, and more to do, but I’ve taken one important step.

I was patently open with Trevor. I need to do the same with my ex.

The next morning, my phone dings with a jackpot full of notes. A sweet reply from Trevor, thanking me for my honesty. A Facebook message from Tyler, asking me if I’m free for lunch. And an email from Joe Thomas telling me my father now lives in Vancouver, Canada, that he’s still married, and he’ll have an email and a phone number for me shortly.

Do I want the address, he asks?

Nerves skate over my skin. I do, and I don’t. I don’t, and I do. But I also know if I have his address, I’ll just google it over and over.

I tell Joe I’ll wait. I’ve been waiting for years.