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“How was it with him today at the house?” Rosa asked.
“Torture,” I said. “He was so ... flirty. But, like,Liamflirty.”
“What does that mean?”
Slowly, I closed the tube of mascara and set it back in my makeup bag.
Once Liam had returned home from his workout and errands, his flirtations were like nothing I’d ever experienced before. Hours of achingly slow anticipation. With very little touching, the man had me ready to crawl out of my skin if he didn’t do something soon.
“He’d look at me from across the room, and ...” My voice trailed off, and I waved a hand in front of my face when it overheated. “Have you ever made eye contact with someone and you justknowthey’re thinking about sex?”
Martha nodded. “The widower across the street looks at me that way.”
Rosa rolled her eyes. “He looks at everyone like that.”
Phyllis blinked. “He does? I thought it was just me.”
“It’s not,” Rosa said.
I laughed. “So you get it.”
“Yes,” they all answered.
I turned and sat on the bathroom counter. “Or he’d walk behind me and brush his fingers along my back when he passed. He never said or did anything outright sexual, but I have never been this worked up before. I’m afraid I’ll get in the car and climb straight into his lap.”
“Do it,” Martha whispered. “He’s got a big car. The frame on that baby could handle a lot.”
With a laugh, I covered my face. “Okay, I appreciate you helping me get ready, but he’ll need you over there for Mira.”
“No, he’s bringing Mira to my house tonight,” Rosa said.
My eyebrows shot up my forehead. “Really?”
She grinned. “My suggestion. That way, if you’re done early, the house is still empty. I’ll bring her home right before her bedtime.”
With a fluttering stomach, I processed the ramifications of that one. Liam was taking me out for a late-afternoon date, given they didn’t havepractice. Even if we had a three-hour meal, we’d have a couple of hours at the house without Mira.
“I owe you,” I told her.
She eyed the length of my legs underneath the skirt. “I thinkheowes me too.”
“Good underwear, right?” Martha whispered.
When I blushed bright red, they laughed in delight.
The house was quiet after they left, and I took a few moments to enjoy the way all of this felt.Butterflieswasn’t even the right word to describe the feeling of waiting for him. I’d always thought of butterflies as fragile little things, wisps of feeling when they brushed their wings against your skin.
This was a great big whoosh of air, a swirling sort of effervescence that floated through my veins as I closed my eyes at the thought of him.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever had it this bad, even before I was married.
Maybe because this date held an omen of the kind of future I’d always wanted. There was weight to it. Not because he was perfect. If anything, he wore his imperfections with pride, and I liked him even better for it.
The sound of a car pulling into the driveway had me checking my reflection one last time.
The woman who looked back at me was hardly recognizable.
I’d gone heavier on my eye makeup and spent a bit more time crafting my normally wild hair into something a bit more intentional.
