“Which isn’t much better, but you’re probably right. I was on a path and I wasn’t interested in distractions. My mother used to tell me I was ahead of my time, that the boys would catch up.” She reached for her wineglass. “It took a while for that to happen.”
She was happy with her success and wouldn’t change any of it, but she was clear that she’d paid a price.
“Do you have friends?” she asked. “People you’re really close to? Not family. Genuine friends.”
“Yes. A couple of guys. One I’ve known since high school.” He looked at her over his glass. “You?”
“Not really. There are acquaintances, but no real friends.” Her lips pressed together. “I work with women all day. You’d think it would be easy to click with someone, but everyone I know is either an employee or a client. When I started Twisted I went to a lot of local entrepreneur events, hoping to meet other women doing what I did.”
She offered him a rueful smile. “The problem was we were all juggling work, marriage and kids. There wasn’t any time to simply hang out. I’ve always thought success would be easier to deal with if I were a man.”
“You’re right, but I’d find the change disappointing.”
Her smile turned genuine. “I’m sure that’s true.”
“Are you lonely?”
The unexpected question stopped her. She resisted the urge to snap that it crossed a line and there was no point in pretending they were in an actual relationship. They didn’t discuss feelings. Their encounters were limited—good conversation, followed by good sex.
Only she liked Killion and she couldn’t summon the energy to be bitchy.
“Sometimes,” she said slowly, not looking at him. “I have work and my mother and Summer, and that’s mostly enough.” She raised her gaze to his. “It’s just every year at this time, when softball season starts, there they are. The other mothers. They’re all so chummy—laughing and talking. They’ve been tight for years and while I don’t care, sometimes I feel... Oh, I don’t know.”
“Left out?” he offered.
She saw him watching her. There wasn’t any judgment in his gaze or derision. If anything, she would say Killion was listening and concerned.
“Yes,” she admitted. “When Summer started playing softball years ago, I met them and they were very nice. They invited me to do things with them.” She waved a hand. “Girl stuff. Lunch and shopping or lunch and a movie. A few things were at night, but mostly they were during the day, when I was working.”
She picked up her wineglass. “They’re all stay-at-home moms. Most of them have never worked. A couple have part-time jobs.” She sipped. “I can’t relate to that. I always wanted to own my own business. I wanted to grow it and work hard and make money and be proud. But they don’t get that and I don’t understand how they can spend their days doing nothing.”
“Judge much?” he asked, his voice teasing.
“You know what I mean. My God, they’re dependent on a man. If any of them were to get a divorce, they’d be screwed with no money of their own, no skills beyond raising kids. Statistically, a woman getting a divorce is one of the most likely reasons for her to fall below the poverty line.”
“But you still wanted to go to lunch with them.”
“Maybe.” She looked past him. “Sometimes. But I was busy so I kept saying no and eventually they stopped asking. Most of the time I don’t care, but...” Her voice trailed off.
“The season starts and it feels like they’re rubbing your nose in it,” he finished.
She glared at him. “Don’t be insightful. I don’t like it.”
He laughed. “I’m stating the obvious. Don’t accuse me of being insightful.”
She sighed. “Sorry. Apparently the topic puts me on edge.” She pushed her fork through the risotto. “Crystal, one of the moms, asked me about a spa day at the Kirkland location.”
“In Carillon Point?” His brows rose. “For all the moms?”
“Yes. It’s a great way to spend a day with friends. We cater and...”
He reached across the table and touched her hand. “It’s not about the treatments, Erica.”
“I know.”
“You want them to invite you.”
She squirmed in her seat. “I don’t. Why would I want to have a spa day in my own store? It’s ridiculous.”