Page 3

It’s the simplicity I promised myself when I signed those divorce papers with a racing heart. I had not only survived, I was finally free.

I settle onto the couch and pull a blanket over my legs.

Five minutes into the show I put on, my phone rings and Aunt Paula’s name lights up the screen.

I put the TV on mute, a smile coming to my face.

“Tell me you’re not sitting on that couch again,” she says in greeting.

My eyes drop to the throw blanket covering my legs and the remote and E-reader sitting in my lap. “Hi to you too, Auntie.”

“Hi, baby. Now answer my question.”

I love this woman more than almost anyone alive, but she has a gift for making me feel like I’m sixteen and sneaking back in after curfew.

Paula Murphy—my mom’s older sister and my favorite aunt—doesn’t ask questions she doesn’t already know the answers to.

“I had a long first day at the ranch,” I explain, which is true. “I had to treat a sick mare with a respiratory infection. That’s not even counting the tour of a six-thousand-acre ranch. My feet ache and my back hurts and this pasta’s hitting just right.”

“Mhmm,” she hums. “What about your plans for the rest of the evening?”

“I downloaded a new thriller on my Kindle app⁠—”

“Vivica Marie Murphy, how many times have I told you, you’re forty-six, not ninety-six? You just got divorced and a whole new lease on life. Why’re you acting like you live in a retirement home?”

Uh-oh.

The full government name. She’s not playing tonight.

I blink a few times and say, “I’m tired⁠—”

“You can rest up when you’re dead,” she interrupts again. “You know I love you. And you know I’m proud of everything you’ve done this past year. It took a lot of strength to go through what you have and walk away like you did. You fought like hell, and I thank God every single day that you survived. But you’re healthy and free now, so why not live a little? Go out on the town and meet some new people.”

I heave a deep sigh.

This is a conversation we’ve had a dozen times over recent months.

I get where Auntie’s coming from. She’s seventy-three and fabulous, spending half the year on vacation, rotating between trips like visiting her adult children and the cruises she takes with girlfriends.

If there’s anybody who knows how to live life to the fullest no matter their age, it’s Aunt Paula.

“I like my evenings peaceful…” I murmur.

“Nothing wrong with that. But every once in a while, it’s nice to mix it up. Go out and have yourself a little fun. Maybe meet a new man and have even more fun.”

I laugh as if her suggestion’s preposterous. “You know how I feel about relationships.”

“Who said anything about a relationship?” she counters. “Baby, the world is your oyster. You can do anything now. A night out wouldn’t hurt.”

A few seconds pass where I go silent and give her words some thought.

She’s technically right that I’ve fallen into the routine of spending almost all my time alone, and I had wanted to try being a little more adventurous with my new lease on life.

But adventurous to me was taking a new job in a state I’ve never lived in before. I didn’t have wild night outs or ‘a little fun’ with men in mind.

…then again, maybe I should. Maybe Auntie has a point.

“There’s a place called The Hen House,” I admit slowly. “They have a live band on Friday and Saturday nights. Ladies drink free.”