“You know,” Connor said. “Maybe if you’re good and you keep remembering what your mom and I have talked to you about, we can think about getting one this summer.”
“Really?” Emma squealed with delight as Easton was hit with instant mixed emotions. Happiness and joy at seeing her daughter so ecstatic. Irritation and a little jealousy that Daddy would be the hero in this scenario. In that moment, Easton realized this was how it would always be as one half of a divorced couple of parents: endless competition. Oh, she knew she could do her best to avoid it, to not let things devolve to that. But it would, at least to a degree. It was inevitable. And a bummer.
“Are you two ready?” Easton asked, for lack of any other course of action. She had the irrepressible urge to stop the activity, to stop standing where Bella could look at her, to stop feeling the weird mix of emotions that suddenly coursed through her.
“Aw, Mom,” Emma said.
“Aw, Mom,” Connor echoed.
One corner of Bella’s mouth lifted in a super-cute half grin. Easton forcibly pulled her gaze away.
“I’ve got some things to get done today.”
They bid goodbye to Bella, and Easton had to force herself not to watch her throw the ball for Ethel, not watch the gentle back and forth of her hips as she walked away. The swinging of her ponytail from one side to the other.
Connor wiped the spring grass off his jeans. “She seems nice,” he said, as Emma ran back toward the playground.
“Mm-hmm.”
“And she’s really cute.” He bumped Easton with a shoulder. “Gonna check it out?”
That pulled Easton back to the present. She blinked rapidly. “What? No. Oh my God. No. What are you talking about?” Shut up, Easton, her brain shrieked at her. Before you become a prime example of the lady doth protest too much!
Connor held up his hands like she’d pointed a gun at him. “What? All I said was she’s cute. You don’t think so?”
Easton looked at him then, looked into the eyes of the man she’d vowed to stay married to until death parted them, and saw nothing but genuine curiosity and maybe a tiny hint of sadness. She forced herself to shrug. “I don’t know. I guess?”
“Let me help you,” he said as they strolled back toward the playground. “She’s definitely cute. There’s no guessing necessary. Whether she plays on your team, however…” He held up a hand, palm up. “That’s up to you to find out.”
With no idea how to respond—seriously, what’s the right answer when your ex-husband suggests a woman you might be interested in?—Easton went with simplicity. “She’s teaching the class I’m in.”
Connor gave a snort of a laugh. “Please. You’re a grown woman, not a high school kid. There’s no seedy underbelly there.”
“True.”
As Connor called to Emma and headed toward her, Easton spared a glance over her shoulder. In the distance, she could see Bella. She was throwing the ball, sending Ethel bounding after it. When the dog returned, Bella dropped into a squat and lavished attention on her, repeated the whole thing again. And then Bella looked her way.
The distance was too far to be sure Bella was looking at her, but Easton swore she could feel it. Could feel the heat, the weight of Bella’s eyes. It washed over her, through her, and settled low in her body.
Easton swallowed. Hard.
“Ready?” Connor’s voice shocked her back to reality and she forced a neutral expression onto her face.
“Yep. You have her backpack?”
“In the car.” Connor grabbed Emma by the hand and they headed toward the parking lot.
It took every ounce of energy Easton had not to look back again.
***
Bella waved from her seat in the restaurant when she saw Amy come through the door.
“Hey, you,” Amy said on approach. Her long, dark hair was pulled back in a loose, low ponytail and a fedora topped her head. On many, it would’ve looked silly. On Amy, it was perfect. Stylish. Trendy. She kissed Bella’s cheek and then took the seat across from her at the little round table for two. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Please. You’re always late. It’s your thing.”
Amy didn’t deny it. “Also, Sky? Who decides on some of these restaurant names? Sky? Really? Are clouds going to float by while we eat? Pretentious.” She set her bag down, picked up a menu. “So. How was your week? I meant to text you, but my week has been crazy.” Her large brown eyes widened as she had a thought. “Oh! How’d the class go?”
The waitress stopped by and took Amy’s order of an extra-dirty martini. Bella preferred something a little safer, so ordered the house cabernet.
“My class had an interesting development,” Bella began.
“Tell me.” Amy propped her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands, all ears.
“A girl from my high school is in it.”
Amy’s thick, dark brows met at the top of her nose. “What? Didn’t you go to school, like, on the other side of the state?”
“I did.”
“That’s a hell of a coincidence.”
“Right?”
Their drinks arrived then, and they placed their food orders.
“And you remembered her?” Amy sipped her martini, made a sound that was somewhere between pain and pleasure. “Were you friends?”
Bella’s chuckle came out more sarcastic than she intended. “Yes, I remembered her and no, we were not friends.”
“Oh, I see. Enemies?”
“She’d have had to see me for me to be her enemy.”
Amy nodded in understanding. “Got it. Did she remember you?”
“Not even a little. I am a brand-new person to her. And then today at the park, I ran into her again. Her and her ex-husband, who also went to high school with me and who also didn’t remember me.” This time, her laugh was genuine. So, Easton Evans, head cheerleader, had married Connor Douglas, quarterback of the football team. God, could the two of them be more of a cliché? And apparently, time had only been good to Easton because Connor was now bald and definitely no longer built like a star football player. Bella didn’t like the fact that she took some vague satisfaction from that.
“Did you remind them who you are?”
“What for?” Bella lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug.
Amy tipped her head from one side to the other. “Yeah, I guess it doesn’t matter, huh? How long is the class?”
“Six weeks.” Bella reached across the table and took Amy’s glass, brought it to her lips.
“You always hate it,” Amy warned.
Bella sipped. Made a face as the blend of vodka and vermouth burned a path down her throat. Amy was right. She slid the glass back and stuck out her tongue. “Blech.”
“Every time.” Amy shook her head, but her eyes held affection for Bella.
“How go things with Ms. Southwest?” Bella asked as their food arrived.
“Eh, that’s fizzled.”
“Really? Hadn’t it been, like, two months? That was a record for you.” Bella was only half teasing, as Amy wasn’t known for the longevity of her relationships—and Bella used that term loosely. Ms. Southwest had been a flight attendant whose schedule was unpredictable. Bella hadn’t been optimistic but was interested in seeing how Amy handled it. Apparently, she’d decided not to handle it at all. “Is there another on deck, just in case?”
“Oh, you’re hilarious.” Amy mock-glared at her.
“I try.”
“I’ll have you know, I am very happy to be on my own right now. Contentedly single.”
“Excuse me? Who are you and what have you done with my good friend Amy?” Amy always, always had a girl on deck for when the current girl inevitably fell by the wayside for whatever (unreasonable) reason. Bella made a mental note to call Heather later and see if she had any new information that Amy was being stingy with.
Amy leaned forward, lowered her voice. “Listen, Bells, I understand that you’re a little jealous here. But you had your chance
to snap me up in college, remember, and now you’re like my sister. This”—she ran an open hand in a circle, encompassing her own body—“is now a no-fly zone for you. You blew it.”
“I did.” Bella feigned a sigh. “Forever penalized for being a late bloomer.”
“Late bloomer.” Amy snorted. “You were practically a no-show. Twenty years old. Ridiculous.”
“Just because I didn’t know, right out of the womb, that I was gay like some people at this table…”
“Baby, I was born this way.” They laughed, then Amy lifted her glass. “To the gay Jew and the late bloomer.” They touched their glasses together with a loud ting.
Bella’s heart swelled with love. She adored Amy. There was no doubt about it. They say you never forget your first, but she’d been lucky enough to stay best friends with hers, and she knew that was rare. Between Amy and Heather, Bella had all the love and support she could possibly ask for.
“I wish Heather was here,” she said wistfully.
“Same.”
“I don’t like when she’s got late visits.”
“God, same.”
Heather’s social work job periodically called for her to do home visits, not always in the best neighborhoods. The night calls worried both Amy and Bella, though Heather was constantly reassuring them she’d be fine.
Tougher than she looks, Bella reminded herself once again.
The rest of their dinner was spent catching up on everyday things. Spending time with Amy was always fun for Bella, and by the time they parted, her face hurt from laughing so much.
When she was back home later that night, Bella lounged in bed watching TV, her legs bookended immobile by dogs, and her brain took her back to the park, to the moment she saw the little girl with Ethel’s tennis ball. Seriously, what were the chances she’d end up being Easton’s daughter? What was the universe trying to do to her lately?
She always bristled when somebody instantly assumed either Ethel or Lucy was a vicious attack dog, because the exact opposite was true. Ethel wouldn’t know how to hurt somebody, especially a child. She loved kids. She guarded them, acted as protector. Sometimes, Bella wished she had one just so Ethel could have a tiny playmate to watch over.
To Connor’s credit, he’d realized his assumption was wrong and got right down on the grass to play with Ethel and Easton’s daughter. Emma, right?
Easton’s daughter.
Bella wasn’t sure why that was an unexpected tidbit, but it was. Easton had a little girl that looked just like her, all blond hair and blue eyes and beauty. From what Bella had seen, she seemed outgoing and friendly, a nice kid. Well, nice to Ethel, at least. That was all that really mattered to Bella.
Or so she tried to tell herself, despite the memories of Easton that her brain tossed at her then. Clad in jeans, a white V-neck T-shirt, and an olive-green jacket, she’d looked fresh and inviting. Open, approachable. Things she’d never seemed in the past, at least not to Bella. And the therapist part of Bella’s mind scolded her then. Reminded her that judging Easton on her high school persona wasn’t fair fifteen years after the fact, but still, Bella couldn’t seem to help herself. Her memories of teenage Easton were a jumble…and not much of that jumble was pleasant.
Giving her head a firm shake, she did her best to dislodge the thoughts of Easton Evans that had been crowding her head lately and focus on the Real Housewives on her TV screen across the room.
She wasn’t even mildly successful.
Chapter Five
Shondra and Tony Carletti lived in a cul-de-sac on the east side of town. The neighborhood wasn’t new, but it was neat and tidy and inhabited by a close-knit group of families that looked out for each other’s houses and kids. It was the kind of place Easton always thought she’d wanted with Connor…until she’d married him, and years had gone by and she’d realized that wasn’t what she’d wanted at all.
Still, she loved visiting, loved the warm, welcoming feel of the house, the company. Easton turned her car into the driveway just as Tony was coming out the door that led from the open garage into the house.
“Hey there, you beautiful girls,” he said by way of greeting as Easton and Emma got out of the car. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair he slicked back. His oxford was open at the neck, cross on a gold chain glimmering in the setting sun. Connor always joked that he looked like he’d walked directly off the set of The Sopranos, still in costume and makeup. Which was an absolutely accurate description.
“Off to win all your friends’ money?” Easton asked, as she reached up to hug him.
“More like give them all my money,” he said, with good-natured scoff.
“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you.”
“Hi, Uncle Tony.” Emma held out her arms so Tony could lift her up and give her a giant bear hug, complete with loud groaning to go with his gentle squeeze.
“You’re going to get too big to do that eventually,” Easton warned her.
“Not possible,” Tony responded, growling playfully into Emma’s neck and making her giggle before setting her back down. “Have fun tonight.” He strolled down the driveway and across the cul-de-sac to the house right across from his.
“Long commute,” Easton called to him. “You’d better watch your drinking for the ride home.” Grabbing the bowl of salsa she’d made that afternoon from the car, she followed Emma, who’d already let herself into the house and had most likely hurried off to play with the Carletti kids.
“There’s my girl,” Shondra said as Easton entered the kitchen and was wrapped in her arms before she had a chance to set anything down. Shondra was a big hugger and Easton loved how safe she felt in her arms. She smelled like coconut oil, warm and earthy, her hair swathed in a brightly colored scarf, her dark skin glowing, her enormous brown eyes catching every little thing around her. Shondra was a unique personality, and she radiated love and openness almost tangibly. Whenever Easton spent time with her, she was reminded how lucky she was to have her as a friend. “It’s so good to see you.” After a final squeeze, she let Easton go and took the bowl from her hands.
“Ready for a cocktail?” Shondra asked, indicating the blender on the counter filled with a lime-green liquid.
“Am I ever.”
By the time they were into their second margaritas, Easton and Shondra were parked in the backyard around the fire pit. The sun had set and the air had grown chilly, but the fire gave off just enough heat to keep them outside, blankets over their legs, breathing in the fresh, almost-summer air. Their chairs were close together but angled slightly so each woman had her feet up on the hearth, crossed at the ankles, mirror images of one another.
This was where Easton was most comfortable lately. Her own house was lovely, and she was growing to love it, but it was still somewhat new. Work was also new, so her office wasn’t as familiar yet as her old one had been. Shondra’s place, however, was steady and solid, as if carved into a mountain that would always be there, always be the same. From the very first visit, she’d felt calm and loved in the Carletti home. It was good for her soul to be there, and she expressed that by dropping her head back against her chair and letting go of a contented sigh.
“How’s your life, baby girl?” Shondra asked quietly. “Tell me more. I feel like I need to catch up.”
Easton took a deep breath. “Well, work has been…interesting.”
“Details.”
“My staff hates me.” Easton held up a hand before Shondra could contradict her. “Which I get. It’s not necessarily me they hate. They just miss their old boss and they’re still resentful of me being there instead of him. I can understand that, and I’m pretty sure it’ll ease up with time.” She took a sip of her margarita—a little salty, a little sweet—and continued. “But to make them all feel better, the higher-ups decided to send all the managers to a conflict resolution class.”
“Seriously?”
With a nod, Easton explained, “It actually makes sense. It’s a show o
f good faith to the employees who were there before the merger. It’s the new owners telling them they’re valued. So, I do understand.”
“I hear a but in there.”
“But…” Easton rolled her head so she was facing Shondra and grinned. “I wish it wasn’t me who had to give up six of my Wednesday evenings in order to boost their little egos.” She immediately squeezed her eyes shut in regret. “That was snarky. I take it back.”
“No need to take it back. You can be snarky on Shondra’s Margarita Nights. That’s what they’re for. The more snark the better.”
“Oh, good. Then allow me to continue with my snark when I say that the teacher seems a little bit bitchy. A little bit bitchy and a lot hot.”
When Shondra Carletti laughed, she laughed. A big, husky belly laugh that came from somewhere deep inside her body. She did that now, let it loose, and her laughter always made Easton join in, so they laughed together for a moment before calming down. “Hot, huh?”
“God, yes.” Okay, the margaritas had definitely hit, and Easton was saying way more than she normally would. But screw it, it was Shondra, the one person who knew all her secrets. “Maybe it’s the slight bitchiness that makes her hot?”
“I was just going to ask that,” Shondra said, slapping at Easton’s leg.
“I mean, maybe?”
“Again, I’ll need details.”
It felt good to admit it. Easton had allowed herself to think of Bella Hunt as “pretty” and “attractive,” but the fact of the matter, the thing she’d been avoiding in her mind, was that Bella was fucking hot and she turned Easton on in a big way. “I guess there’s that whole cliché about the more unapproachable, the more attractive, right? The being attracted to the standoffish person because she’s standoffish?”
“She’s standoffish?”
“A little, yeah.” Easton relayed the story of earlier that day, meeting up with Connor at the park so he could hand off Emma, and running into Bella and her dog. “She didn’t say a whole lot. I mean, I don’t really know her…”
The Do-Over Page 5