Page 25 of Living at 40

“What the hell does that mean?” My eyebrows rise, and Mason lowers his eyes. His head shakes slowly again, dismissing his admission.

“Forget it, man. It’s never mattered.”

“Mace, what are you talking about?” As I step toward the car door, he turns to retrieve the to-go cup from his roof and slips inside his fancy vehicle. I grip the door to stop him from closing it. “Tell me what you mean.”

“I said it doesn’t matter. As for Autumn, ladies’ choice I say.”

“Dammit,” I mutter as he tugs the driver’s door free from my grasp. Mason laughs, shutting me out with the click of the closed door. Staring after him as he reverses out of the lot, I fight old insecurities and talk myself into what I need to do.

I need to prove to Autumn I’m the only choice for her.

11

[Autumn]

The tension between Mason and Logan is titillating while frustrating, and I don’t have time to think about either of them touching my tits. Between the two, Logan is the one I’m attracted to most although Mason isn’t unattractive. He’s just more the annoying brother you hate but love at the same time. It’s all confusing, so at the end of the day, I gather around the two people who don’t stir me up.

“Girls’ night out!” I cry out as Mila and Lorna exit my sensible Hyundai crossover parked before the nail salon. We’ll be getting manis and pedis in bright summer colors. It’s fun to listen to the girls giggle and chatter although sometimes a conversation with me can be stilted. Instead, they whisper to each other about girly things, and it makes me smile. I don’t recall being like this with girlfriends when I was a kid, but I must have been. Eventually, I was more the girl who had boyfriends. The one who dated for longevity but never ended up with the engagement ring. I was loyal to a fault which might strangely explain my still lingering crush on Logan despite what happened back when he was in college.

Dinner with the girls is ice cream although I’m certain it’s not enough of a real meal, and they’ll be looking for snacks later in the evening. This night is about breaking all the rules, though, with blueberry-flavored ice cream and a stroll down to the public beach in town. Deciding we don’t want to ruin our freshly painted toes, we stick to the boardwalk before deciding to head back to the house. I promise the girls cartwheels on the beach before sunset after our toenails have dried.

As we return to the cottage, I glance at Mila in my rearview mirror. “Should we drive by the house?”

My niece smiles back at me. She knows which one I’m talking about. There’s a little cottage home, not a sprawling one like the McCaryn family, that has my name on it someday. It’s been on the market a while, but I can’t afford it yet. It needs some TLC, but it’s perfectly situated. You can see over the house across the street and out to the lake from the second-story window. It’s not exactly lakefront, so the cost is much less than the neighbors across the street, but it’s still the perfect house for me and a baby one day.

“There she is,” I tease as I drive by the place, pausing to point out a swing dangling from a tree in the front yard.

“There’s my swing,” Mila says, as both girls glance out the window.

“Are you moving here?” Lorna asks.

“One day,” I whisper, just like I’ve done about all my other dreams. One day . . . I will fall in love. One day . . . I will marry. One day . . . I will have a baby. I smile with hope in my heart that at least some of these one days will be sooner rather than later. After a final look, I return my foot to the accelerator and drive on.

As we enter Anna and Ben’s, the guys are getting ready to head out. To give Anna a break, they’re going into town for burgers and beer. Logan sits alone at the kitchen island, staring at his phone, but he shifts at our approach.

“Dad, look at my nails.” Lorna holds up the back of her hands for her father to see the bright blue coloring with a daisy painted on each ring finger. The nail tech really is an artist.

“Blue? My favorite color.” He leans forward to tug her to him, but she flips her hands to stop him.

“Dad, my nails.”

Shaking his head, he dismisses her rejection. “Did you ladies eat?”

“We had ice cream for dinner but don’t tell Mom,” Lorna says, dropping her voice. My brows pinch as I meet Logan’s eyes.

“Does she have a food allergy?” I didn’t think to ask if she was allergic to dairy or any food for that matter, nor did I consider she might have a health restriction that doesn’t allow a cheat with ice cream.

“No,” Lorna answers for herself. “I just promised Mom I’d eat a salad a day and not skip the vegetables at meals.”

A deeper crease forms between my brows as I glance down at the beautiful eleven-year-old girl before me. Everything about her matches her father, which means she has broader shoulders and solid legs. It’s an athletic build, and she doesn’t need salads.

Mila says something to Lorna, and they excuse themselves from the kitchen as Lorna calls over her shoulder, “See you, Dad.”

“Bye, honey.” He waves although she isn’t looking back at him, and he watches her disappear in the front entryway. “I don’t know how I’m going to handle it when she turns into a teenager.”

“I’m sorry about the ice cream. I just thought it would be fun to say we had it for dinner, but I’ll see that they eat something healthier later.”

Logan waves a hand at me, and I take a moment to note his appearance. He’s wearing a dark tee and khaki shorts that droop on his hips. He looks sexy for the single dad at forty, and suddenly, I’m nervous that young things will hit on him when the guys go to the bar.