Page 118 of The Do-Over

“Yeah, I finally opened one of her letters. She wore me down and, well, I thought it was time I got myself together.”

“I’m happy for you.”

He flashed me a small smile. “Anyway, she’s cleaned my house from top to bottom, made three pans of lasagna to freeze, and spoiled Lilah rotten. But it’s been good having her. I think we understand each other better now, you know?”

“I do.”

“You look happy, Perci,” he said, his eyes soft.

“I am happy. I really am.” Even I could hear the delight in my voice. Because it was true. The daycare would open soon. My mother and I were venturing on building a new, better relationship. Phee and Mathias were… something. The only thing missing was, well, Nate. One day, my heart would get over him and move on. Probably. “And you? Are you happy?”

The crease in his forehead deepened. “Almost.”

A lump of emotion worked its way to my throat, and I felt tears prick the backs of my eyes. I was glad he was happy. That’s all I wanted for him, even if it meant I wasn’t there to be part of it. But it was hard to be this close to him and know that we would never be a we again. He’d made that clear. I glanced away and studied the hallway tile. “Good. Good. That’s good.”

Nate shoved his hands in his jean pockets. I shifted from one foot to the other. Our eyes darted around the hallway, taking in everything but each other.

“I should get inside. I have presents to wrap and all that.” Plastering on a bright smile, I held out my hand to shake his. “It was good to see you, Nate.”

It was all very adult of me.

FORTY-SEVEN

“An ending is just the beginning of something new.”

—MIMI

The Loveland Hotel ballroom had been transformed into a winter wonderland for the occasion of New Year’s Eve. Round tables with oversized centerpieces surrounded the dance floor under dramatic lighting that made the entire space magical. One entire wall of the room was floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out on to the city from the fifteenth floor.

I’d never noticed before how beautiful it was. All the other years I’d been forced to come, wearing some awful, uncomfortable dress my mother had picked out, I’d wanted to be anywhere else. But this year was different because I was different. This year, I was excited to celebrate a new year and a new me. I planned to party like I was Mimi’s granddaughter.

“Now, when does the dancing start, is what I want to know?” Mimi said, adjusting the floor-length dress she’d bought specially for the occasion. Lest she appear too tame, she’d spent extra time on her updo, using red feathers liberally. The feathers matched her red boa and red high heels.

“Mama, sit down, please. The dancing is later,” my mother said, exasperation threading through her words. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

Mimi patted her cheek as she strolled by. “You know you love me.”

Mom rolled her eyes and turned to survey my outfit from top to bottom. “You look lovely.”

I knew it was hard for her to say it. Earlier in the week, I’d announced I would be picking out my own dress, thank you very much.

Mom had objected but I’d stood firm. “I get to decide what I wear or I’m not going.”

Which wasn’t at all true. I was totally going. But she didn’t need to know that.

“Oh, fine,” my mother said.

See? Progress.

With Mathias and Phee in tow, I’d headed to the vintage store I passed every day on the way to the daycare, and I’d tried on The Dress. Its 1950s vintage charm with the sweetheart neckline in the perfect shade of red suited me perfectly. Like it was made for me. The salesclerk had showed me a pair of black ballet shoes and a snow-white wrap that pulled the entire outfit together.

Yesterday morning, Mom had treated me to a manicure and a cut and style at the salon. She hadn’t even argued when I chose Alisa to work her voodoo on my hair, instead of Jacque. Earlier this evening, Phee had helped with my make-up. I am not too proud to admit I kept walking by mirrors whenever I could, just to see myself.

On a list of People Who Looked Smoking Hot Tonight, I was at least in the top five.

The tables held twelve chairs, and ours were occupied by Mom, Dad, Phee, Mathias, Mimi, and me. Brent was also there, with a date. She had the same taste in dresses Brent had in ties. A match made in fashion hell.

Bria showed up a half-hour later, looking uncomfortable in a knee-length green velvet dress that, I had on good authority, my mother had picked out for her. Part of me wished I could have sent her to the bathroom and let her put on short shorts and a tank top.