Finally Me sneak peek

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Curled up on the couch in her pjs, the ding of an incoming text dragged Naomi’s attention from her tablet with a mental groan. With her sister at Pilates and her daughter still asleep, she had a rare slice of uninterrupted Saturday morning all to herself. And she really wanted to finish her book before it was gone.

Mind still in Mordor with Sam and Frodo, she shot a quick glance at the phone lying face up on the coffee table.

I had a really good time last night.

“I’m sure glad someone did,” she sighed as she typed a distracted reply to her best friend, who apparently couldn’t wait to gloat about her blind date.

Glad to hear it.

It wasn’t until after she hit send that she noticed the words weren’t on the same thread as her other texts with Prisha. Or with anyone else in her contact list. Were, in fact, on a brand-new thread all by themselves, from a number she didn’t recognize.

Her stomach did a little flippy-flop.

Oh, no.

Please say she had not just responded to some random stranger.

“No, no, no!” No matter how many times she smashed her finger against the screen, nothing happened. “Why won’t you unsend?”

The phone sat silent in her clammy hand, like a grenade about to go off. Seconds ticked by. Then a minute. Muscles that had grown tight in her back began to relax.

Maybe it was okay. Maybe they weren’t going to reply.

She jumped like a spooked kitten at the ding.

I was hoping that you did, too.

Okay, maybe she couldn’t unsend, but she could block. No way was she engaging with what was at best a spammer, or at worst a rando creeper who’d be sending her a dick pic next. She brought the option up, but another text ding sounded before she finished.

Her thumb wavered above the screen.

Curiosity, that troublesome little minx that had been causing problems for a good chunk of her life, poked her with needle-like claws. Urging her to see what it said first. Thenshe could block the number.

She really shouldn’t, though. It was just asking for trouble.

She did anyway.

I’m SO sorry about your dress. I was serious when I said I’d pay for the dry cleaning. Or to replace it if the stain doesn’t come out.

“Oh no! Poor guy.” Or so she guessed, based on what sounded like a date gone horribly wrong. An unexpected ping of sympathy replaced the squick in her belly. Along with a slice of respect. A lot of guys would have just ghosted a woman after a humiliating evening rather than apologize to her.

Except…he wasn’t apologizing to her. He only thought he was.

And if she blocked him now without at least telling him he texted the wrong number, he’d probably think his date had blown him off rather than forgive him. He might never try to contact her again, and some poor woman would be left waiting for a call that would never come and wondering why.

And that would be horrible.

A missed opportunity because of a simple misunderstanding. Like Romeo and Juliet. Only without all the teenaged angst and stabbing.

Before she could second-guess herself, she typed back, I’m not who you think I am.

There. Quandary resolved.

Good deed accomplished, she went back to her book. A few minutes later, the text chime dinged. 

She stared at the phone.

Felt her normally dormant curiosity flex its claws again.

And gave in.

Really? Who are you then? A runaway princess? A spy?

No, just an almost-thirty single mother who’d spent last night cleaning up puke and feeding her nine-year-old saltines and ginger ale. While not out on a date as he’d apparently been.

But something about the playfulness of the text made her smile and type, How do you know I’m not a princess spy?

Oh no! Bad fingers! He wasn’t being playful with her. He was being playful with the other her. His date. At least, he thought he was. By playing along, it was like she was taking something that wasn’t hers.

That thought sobered all the fun right out of her. Been there, done that, still had the matched set of emotional baggage as a lifetime souvenir.

She silenced the phone and put it aside.

There. She was done.

No more straying from her safe, comfortable boundaries.

Picking up her tablet, she made herself go back to her book, but her eyes wouldn’t focus on the words. Instead, they kept drifting from the screen, sneaking little side glances at the phone on the cushion beside her, curiosity scratching at her nerves in increasingly urgent strokes.

Maybe just one tiny peek to see if he’d answered…

No. She was better than this now.

After half a lifetime of doing the wrong thing, bending the rules, living for the moment, she was finally the smart, mature, rational woman her family had always hoped she’d become. She wasn’t ruled by her impulses anymore.

But oh, how she sometimes missed this kind of pointless silliness in her life.

Her body practically vibrated with the effort of ignoring the phone until she eventually let out a gusty sigh. “Fine. I’ll just see what he had to say, if anything, then set him straight that he’s talking to the wrong person and be done with the whole stupid misunderstanding.”

Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me, your highness.

She groaned. “Aw, now why’d you have to go and be all cute and funny?” It was a hard combination for her to resist.

Chin in hand, she considered what to type back. Obviously, she needed to put a firm end to this. But she didn’t want to be mean about it either. Whatever she said, though, it had to be the last thing.

Which was a shame, since this was the most interesting interaction she’d had with a guy in the past six months.

“And that’s not pathetic at all.”

“Who’re you talking to, Mommy?”

And there was the biggest reason she had for resisting those old impulsive urges.

Smiling at Penny’s sleepy voice, she got up and gave her a hug, kissing her forehead to check for a fever, relieved to find it cool and normal. “Just myself, baby. You feeling better this morning?”

“I guess so. I’m hungry.”

“Well, that’s a good sign. How about I make you some oatmeal?” Which would hopefully stay down better than last night’s pork lo mein had.

Lesson learned.

When your kid says their tummy “feels funny,” believe them.

“Can I watch tv while I eat? You know, since I was sick and everything?”

When Penny pulled out the puppy dog look like she was now, she reminded Naomi of Boo from Monsters, Inc. All big, dark eyes and adorable pigtails, able to melt adult hearts with a single pout. No meals in front of the television was the rule in the home they shared with Naomi’s older sister, Kayla.

Unless you were sick.

The pathetic plea on Penny’s sweet little face trying to cash in on that exception made Naomi’s lips tremble with contained laughter. Her daughter had definitely inherited her uncle’s acting gene despite there being no blood between them.

Of course, she may have also gotten it from her father.

That reminder dissolved any urge to laugh.

“I guess so. As long as you don’t feel like you’re going to throw up again,” she added, imagining Kayla’s reaction coming home from her Pilates class to a barf-covered couch. They might be sisters, but they were worlds apart when it came to how tightly wound they were about some stuff.

Penny put a hand on her tummy as though communing with it. “Nope. All quiet.”

“Okay, then. You get comfy while I go make it.”

Bowls of warm, sweet, brown-sugar scented oatmeal in hand, they settled in to watch Tangledfor the ten-thousandth time. At least Penny’s fascination with Disney princesses currently leaned toward all the strong, kickass ones like Rapunzel, Belle, Moana, and Mulan. Women who might have started out seeming weak and defenseless, but struck out on their own personal quests anyway. 

And against the odds and expectations of others managed to win the day and find their own happy endings.

Withouthaving to wait for some prince to come and do it for them.

It was a good life lesson. All the same, she wanted to warn Penny not to buy into the fairytale. There were no guaranteed happy endings no matter how hard you tried. And while there might be some princes out there, somewhere, in her experience they were pretty thin on the ground and often fell far short of expectations.

Real life was hard and unforgiving.

And so were the consequences when you screwed up.

On that, she was an expert.

But for now, she snuggled next to her daughter on the couch and let her enjoy the fantasy. With luck, it would be a long, long time before the harsh realities of life invaded the safe, happy cocoon she, her sister, and the rest of their family had wrapped around Penny. If Naomi had her way, it never would.

But that was as much a fantasy as magically glowing hair.

It wasn’t until later, when she’d finished cleaning up the kitchen and saw her phone on the island, that she remembered the texts. A quick check showed nothing new from wrong-number guy. He was most likely waiting on her reply.

And probably freaking out a little since she’d left him hanging for over two hours.

Oops.

Okay. How to do this without sounding like an idiot?

She tapped her finger against her lips as she composed and discarded several possible texts in her head before settling on, As much as I’d like to be, I’m afraid I’m not a princess spy or the person you meant to text. You must have used the wrong number. Sorry for any misunderstanding.

There. Done.

Although she probably could have left out that first part. She wasn’t sure why she’d even typed it. As much as I’d like to be? Really?

She blamed it on residual feel-good vibes from the movie.

It didn’t matter. She’d done her good deed and steered him back on course toward the right woman. End of adventure. “I hope she at least gives you another chance despite whatever you did to her dress,” she said to the phone.

Ding.

She hated herself for the excited tingle the sound caused almost as much as for how she didn’t hesitate to pick the phone up to read the text.

Are you being serious? You aren’t Kandy?

Her nose wrinkled. “Kandy with a K. How precious.”

Sorry, but no I’m not. 

Nothing appeared on the screen for a good two minutes. That was it, then. Conversation over.

Then, No, I’m sorry I bothered you. Wow, talk about embarrassing.

Okay, maybe not quite over. She couldn’t not reply to that.

No big deal. You must have typed one of the numbers in wrong or something.

The thirty seconds that passed before he replied felt like thirty minutes.

Doubtful, since she put her number into my phone herself.

She let out a hiss through her teeth. “Oh, not cool, Kandy with a K. Not cool at all.”

I hate to ask, but was that before or after whatever happened to her dress?

And why had she asked that?

Because her minxy curiosity had somehow taken control of the bus, that’s why. It was like finding an interesting show mid-scroll on tv and not being able to move on until you knew how it ended even when you didn’t know the plot or the characters.

But that still didn’t make it any of her business.

She started to type exactly that when his reply popped up.

Good point. It was after. Then after a short pause, I’m no expert, but I guess that’s a pretty good sign our first date was also our last. What do you think?

What did she think?

That she should have ended this conversation several texts ago.

And that she should be feeling guilty about how much fun she was having. Not that she was doing anything wrong, exactly. She wouldn’t think twice about striking up a casual conversation with a stranger while standing in line somewhere.

Why should this be any different?

But somehow, it was.

Maybe it was the randomness of it. Or the total anonymity. But for some reason there was an intimate thrill in the exchange. That once-familiar fizz of being totally spontaneous. Of taking a risk, trying something a little offbeat and crazy.

All the things she’d been stuffing down inside for the past nine years to prove to her family—and herself—she really could learn from her mistakes.

Not that she considered her daughter a mistake. But everything leading up to the moment Penny was placed all red-faced and screaming in her arms? Screw-ups of epic proportions. She could only be thankful she’d had her family to be her rock.

Most of them, anyway.

But lately, that rock had started to feel less like it was planted beneath her feet and more like it was sitting on her chest. Slowly smothering the breath out of her as she boxed herself in with rules and restraint and zero room for spontaneous frivolity of any kind.

Like holding silly text conversations with random strangers.

Which was the only explanation she had for the little sizzle of defiance flooding her as she typed her answer rather than end the conversation.

Unfortunately I think you may be right.

“Oh my god, what are you doing?”

Guilt as much as surprise made her jump at Kayla’s voice.

Flipping the phone face-down before she could hit send, she plastered on a well-practiced neutral expression for her sister. “What? Nothing. Why?”

She might look like a cheerleader with her black hair scraped into a high ponytail, but beneath those workout clothes Kayla was more General Leia than Gym Bunny Barbie. No one who’d gone up against her had ever walked away a victor.

Including her.

She folded her hands over the phone as Kayla stalked over and put her water bottle down with a thump. “Roger is picking you up for brunch in less than twenty minutes.”

Roger.

Brunch.

Right.

Funny how that had totally slipped her mind despite being dutifully logged into her day planner with all her other chores.

Which kind of said it all.

“Oh, well, since Penny was sick last night, I should probably stay home and keep an eye on her. I’m sure Roger will understand.” It was a terrible thing to use your kid as an excuse. Especially when Penny was feeling perfectly fine.

But her guilt was far outweighed by the urge to get out of the date she hadn’t really wanted to make in the first place.

“I can stay with her. That’s why I came straight home after class instead of going to the smoothie bar. How’s our baby feeling?”

She bit back a groan. Saturday morning smoothies with her gym friends was one of her sister’s few treats for herself. There was no way she could cancel now without throwing that sacrifice back in her face.

Even if she hadn’t asked her to make it.

“No fever, and breakfast stayed down without any problems.” Which meant she had zero excuses left. “Guess I’d better go get changed.”

Her feet dragged as she headed for her room with all the enthusiasm of the hobbits climbing Mount Doom. She could totally sympathize. This was a task she’d have preferred to avoid as well, but was bound by a promise to see through to the end.

So much for her peaceful Saturday morning.

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Half an hour later as Roger ordered his usual egg-white and spinach omelet, she wished again she’d been a little more assertive in declining when he’d maneuvered her into this latest date. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with the man. There just wasn’t anything terribly right, either.

For her, anyway.

Although according to Kayla, he was perfect for her. Just the kind of stable, calming influence she needed from the man in her and Penny’s lives. But did stable and calming also have to be so…boring and predictable?

The rock settled a little heavier on her chest.

“Roger, why don’t you mix it up today and go for one of their specialty omelets?” She flipped the menu around and pointed. “Look, they have one with goat cheese, mushrooms, and avocado.”

That kind of stuck-up sounding combo should appeal to him.

His gaze flicked to the picture and away, like he was guilty about being tempted. “I don’t think so.”

Some strange urge to get him to prove there was something—anything—remotely adventurous beneath his rigid surface made her lean in with a coaxing grin. “Come on, just try it. Go wild for once and live a little.”

“I plan to live a lot. Which is why I’ll have the egg-white omelet, thank you. And you’d do well to reconsider that bacon you ordered. As an only parent to a young daughter, one would think you’d be more conscientious about eating healthy.”

The not-so-subtle rebuke sparked an ember of discontent rather than the intended capitulation. She handed her menu to the waitress with a tight smile. “I’d like the bacon extra crispy, please. And could you add a side of hash browns? Thanks.”

She could all but feel the disapproval radiating from across the table.

Good. Maybe he’d think twice about talking to her like a child in need of reprimand next time. Who was he to tell her what she should or shouldn’t eat? Hell, she should have ordered a double order of bacon. That would have shown him.

Her inner bubble of self-righteousness popped.

What the heck was she doing?

It had been a long time since she’d had such a violent knee-jerk reaction to someone telling her not to do something. The kind that usually ended with her doing that something anyway, even if it was really, really stupid. Just because.

Why would that regrettable habit raise its ugly head now?

It had to be those texts. They’d stirred up feelings she hadn’t had in years. Dangerous, seductive feelings. Of being rebellious. Impulsive.

Foolish.

She couldn’t allow that to happen. Not again.

With deliberate care, she gathered up every contrary, reckless thought. Locked them away. And focused on being as pleasant a brunch companion as possible.

To his credit, Roger seemed willing to move past her juvenile lapse of judgement and continued on as if nothing had happened.

Which pretty much described the rest of their date.

Nothing. Happened.

No spark. No interest. Not the smallest ping on her radar for even the potential of something more. It wasn’t that he wasn’t good looking. With his strong cheekbones, light brown eyes, and trim physique, he reminded her a little of the actor who played Dr. Strange, minus the goatee.

Which, being a Marvel fangirl, might have been a total turn-on.

If only he hadn’t been such a pretentious snob.

And if his salt-and-pepper hair had been due to premature graying and not him pushing fifty. She didn’t mind a bit of an age gap, but the fact the man had a son only a few years younger than her kind of took all the sexy out of the silver fox equation.

When the food came, she spent more time moving it around on her plate than eating thanks to the bowl of oatmeal she’d had earlier. Although she did eat every bite of the crisped-to-perfection bacon.

Because…bacon.

And maybe because she didn’t want Roger to think he could get away with his autocratic bullcrap, no matter how well intentioned.

Talk while they ate was mostly about their jobs. Which she’d realized on their first date was really the only thing they had in common. He was principal at the high school where Kayla was a counselor, and she was an elementary school art teacher.

Not exactly a lot to hang a conversation on.

So, they discussed a recent PTA meeting, the upcoming summer break, and a few other mundane small-talk topics. By the time he finally pulled up in front of Kayla’s house, she couldn’t remember half of what was said. That’s what happened when the conversation was just as uninspiring as the company.

It was just as forgettable.

“It was a lovely morning, Naomi. Thank you for joining me,” Roger said as he walked her to the door. If nothing else, he was a gentleman.

“Thank you for inviting me.” She should say she had a good time, too. She knew she should.

She just couldn’t make her mouth spit out that big a lie.

“I, um, should probably get inside and check on Penny. You know how it is with fevers and kids.”

“Of course.” He graced her with a benevolent smile. “You’re a good mother. Just one of the many things I like about you.”

Something in his expression warned her he planned to follow the compliment up with a kiss. A next-step move she’d so far been able to avoid.

Today wasn’t going to be any different.

Donning her best neutral smile, she stuck out a hand. A very clear do-not-cross line. “Well, goodbye, Roger.”

Some emotion flashed through his eyes at the silent rebuff. Disappointment? Frustration?

Anger?

Then it was gone, and he mirrored her bland smile as he took her hand. His mouth might have been all business, but the handshake got a lot more personal than it should have, his fingers giving hers a slow, intimate squeeze.

“Goodbye, Naomi.” He started to walk away, then added over his shoulder, “Tell your sister I said hello.”

The reminder he was her sister’s boss left an uneasy knot in her stomach as she went inside. Which was ridiculous. He was a professional. There was no way he’d take her rebuff out on Kayla. And yet…

That flash in his eyes and those parting words felt like something she should be worried about.

It was no surprise when Kayla pounced the moment she closed the door.

“So, how did it go?”

Not slowing, she headed for the stairs. The trick to dealing with her sister was to be a moving target.

“It was fine. How’s Penny? Did she eat anything for lunch?”

Kayla trailed her upstairs like a determined hound. “Half a PB and J and a banana. No return visits on either. When are you going out with Roger again?”

So much for changing the subject.

“I’m not.”

Three, two, one…

“What? Why not? He’s perfect for you. He’s mature, intelligent, has a good job with excellent benefits, and he likes kids.”

Funny how there was nothing about affection or chemistry on that list.

“That also describes Uncle Frank. Is he perfect for me, too?”

To be honest, she would’ve preferred brunch with Frank. At least then she would have enjoyed herself. Their adoptive father’s little brother had a wicked sense of humor.

“You’re being deliberately ridiculous,” Kayla snapped.

It would be wrong to shut the bedroom door in her sister’s face, though the urge was strong. Resisting it, she dropped her purse on the bed and sat beside it with a sigh.

“He’s just not for me, Kay. I’m not going to see him again. It wouldn’t be fair.”

To either of them.

Kayla’s expression darkened. “You’re making a big mistake.”

“If I am, it’s mine to make. Please just drop it, okay?” But when she looked up from slipping off her heels for an agreement, the doorway was empty.

She sighed again. “She’s not gonna drop it.”

After changing into yoga pants and a comfy old Star Wars t-shirt worn soft from frequent washing, she went down the hall and poked her head into Penny’s room. Penny didn’t even notice her. She was completely absorbed in her library book, nearly swallowed by the nest of pillows propped against the headboard.

Heart happy her baby appeared fully back to normal, she backed away and returned to her own room. After a brief glance at her tablet and the book still waiting for her there, she pulled out her sketch pad instead and settled cross-legged on the bed.

Reading was her daughter’s favorite pastime. Drawing was hers.

Actually, it was more a form of self-therapy these days. A freeing of the mind. Sometimes when she let her brain wander and her fingers do whatever they wanted, she got interesting glimpses into what was going on deep down in her subconscious.

Like now.

She stared at the half-finished caricature of Roger at the restaurant, mouth stretched ridiculously wide as he spoke, a piece of spinach stuck in his teeth.

“Yeah, that’s an easy one.” She flipped the pad closed and put it aside.

Saw her phone on the nightstand charger.

And remembered she’d never sent her last text to wrong-number guy.

“It’s probably been way too long to do it now, anyway.” But even as she told herself that, she was opening the text thread. Her reply was still sitting there, cursor blinking.

Waiting.

Begging to be sent.

“No. It’s over. Answering him now would be asking for trouble.” She deleted the words and the temptation they represented.

But she couldn’t seem to put the phone down.

“Of course, he did ask me a direct question. It would be rude not to answer. Wouldn’t it?”

Okay, yes, it was a weak argument at best. So was the one where she promised herself it would be the very last time. That she wasn’t really being impulsive or reckless. It was just one quick text.

What could it hurt?