"That's right baby. You are so smart."

"Mommy, do you know what the potty is called?"

"What?"

"The toilet or the rest room."

"That's right baby. Hey, Kynd"

"Mommy, do you know the color of brains?"

"Rylie we don't talk about"

"Pink. Brains are pink, Mommy."

"Rylie, that's right. But please don't talk about brains, okay? I don't think your teachers in your new big girl cla.s.s would like that."

"Okay, Mommy."

"Do you know the capital of New York?" she asks. Honestly, she's got me there.

"No, honey, what is the capital of New York?"

"Albany."

How does she know this stuff? And why New York? Why not Texas?

"Rylie? What's the capital of California?" I suddenly feel the need to gauge this child's intelligence level.

"My formula." She smiles widely looking back at me in the rearview mirror.

Phew! Okay...so she isn't completely smarter than me. I grin back at her wholeheartedly.

After I drop the girls off at all of their respective drop sites, I head over to Prestige. Walking in the door, I let out a snort as I look at Harlow.

"Sporting the after Wednesday night look as well my dear friend?" Harlow is in the process of popping ibuprofen in her mouth. Her hair is in a pony tail, which is an extremely rare occurrence.

"I totally blame you for this look, actually," Harlow snaps back, obviously not in the mood for my first-rate sarcasm this morning.

"Well then, we're even because I didn't get an ounce of sleep last night thanks to you. After you left, I went into the attic and found some random box labeled 'Alex's Stuff' did you do that by the way because your labeling is completely unacceptable. Anyway, I opened it, and found the charm bracelet Blake gave me when we were kids. You remember which one I'm talking about, right?" I watch Harlow give a slight nod yes, obviously in too much pain for a full-fledged head shake.

"Well, I had some unfortunate memories about him, and then proceeded to have some even more unfortunate memories revolving around Derek's death. So needless to say, if we're playing the blame game, I win...by a freakin' landslide."

I think I just word vomited on myself. I need some coffee.

"Okay...you win," Harlow says emphatically surrendering. "Sorry for the drunken lecture. But honestly, we don't have that many chances to really talk, ya know? I said what I felt needed to be said and what I know you needed to hear."

"I know, Harlow. It doesn't make it easy to take though. I know everything you said is true, but honestly, I'm just not ready. Maybe someday, but not now."

Sighing extremely loudly, Harlow places the ibuprofen bottle on the counter. "I'm not getting into this with you today, Alex. I'm too tired and too hung over."

"That's completely fine by me," I say as my cell starts ringing. "What the"

"Who is it?"

"Oh. My. G.o.d. I completely forgot I left a message with his parents. It's Blake."

Covering her mouth in an effort to try to hide her obvious amus.e.m.e.nt, Harlow asks, "Well, are you going to answer it?"

"h.e.l.l no, I'm not going to answer it." I throw my phone back into my purse. "I don't have time for this s.h.i.t, Harlow. So what, he's here after all of these years? Honestly, I don't care. It has nothing to do with me. I haven't spoken to the man in years. There's nothing to say. He did me a favor. Big freakin' whoop. I'm not obligated to answer his phone calls. So I'm not going to."

"Okay...jeez, Lucifer. I was just asking a question. You sure are defensive about a phone call." Harlow's enjoying this. I can tell by the delighted look on her face. I decide to squash any thoughts that may be going on in that devious mind of hers.

"Well, I don't want you to get your hopes up, Harlow. I'm broken. And I don't antic.i.p.ate being fixed anytime soon. And I sure as h.e.l.l don't expect Blake Morgan to be my cure. Nor do I want him to be. I'm comfortable where I am in my life," I say walking into my office. "I don't want to hear anything else about Blake Morgan. Ever!" I shout at Harlow, slamming my door.

I swear I hear her laughing, but I choose to not acknowledge it. I sit down at my desk and look at my phone. s.h.i.t, he left a voice mail.

After staring at my phone for five minutes, I delete the message without even listening to it. There's nothing Blake has to say that I want to hear. Now or ever.

Well...it seems my gut feeling was spot on, as usual, about Harlow and her new potential man, Trace. He calls while I'm deleting my unheard message from Blake. Harlow excitedly rushes into my office and demands that I accompany her on Friday to meet Trace. He got the job with Synergy and wants to meet for drinks to celebrate. Evidently this is some kind of girl code I'm unaware of....number one, because I haven't been on the dating scene in a ridiculously long time. And two, because Harlow never bothers to "date" anyone.

Very interesting.

I accept because, while I do love Harlow, I really just need a good girl's night out. So, if nothing else, it will be an enjoyable evening with my friend. With a little bit of Trace thrown in...

Friday "day" comes and goes, and now I find myself in my bathroom, putting make-up on with my mother-in-law Nancy, aka the babysitter also aka Derek's mother, sitting on the bathtub behind me discussing the schedule for this evening.

"We're meeting Trace at George's Bar at seven. After that, I have no idea." I chuckle as I look at Nancy in the mirror. "You have met Harlow right?"

Smiling back, Nancy nods her head. "Yes, I have. I'll stay however long you need me. Actually, I'll probably just take the girls to my house for the night so there's no need to hurry back. You girls enjoy your evening. Don't worry about us. We'll be just fine."

After a few second of silence, Nancy speaks again. "I heard Blake Morgan's in town."

"What? Blake Morgan?" I ask innocently. Seriously, is there a Blake Morgan convention going on that I don't know about? "Yeah, I ran into him earlier this week. How do you know Blake?"

"Alex, he and Derek were friends, don't you remember? He used to come over to our house with Derek after the football games. Very sweet boy as I remember," she says as though lost in a memory.

"Yeah, well he may have been sweet, but Derek was the only one for me. You know that. I didn't really notice anyone else in high school. I don't really think he would have appreciated that much."

I shoot her a smug smile. I really don't want to get into this with her before my much needed girls' night.

"I know. I was just thinking that maybe "

"Um, no. Don't start. I've already gone into this with Harlow and I don't feel like rehashing it with you. I'm still in love with Derek, Nancy. It wouldn't be fair to start something with someone else. I would think that you, especially, would appreciate that." I apply the second coat of mascara to my lashes.

Leaning forward and placing both hands on the counter, I will myself to meet her eyes in the mirror. I'm so sick and tired of this conversation.

She shakes her head disapprovingly. "It's not about me, dear. It's about you. It's about how you're choosing to live out the remainder of your own life. I still love Derek too, honey. But honestly, Alex, my son loved you more than anything. And I know that he would not have wanted this life for you. Just because you move on with someone else doesn't mean you love him any less, sweetheart. Your happiness was the most important thing to him and he would be heartbroken to see you living this sh.e.l.l of a life you are living now."

Well, s.h.i.t. Use of the Derek guilt card by one Nancy Meyer.

"Nancy, I'm not ready. When I am, I'll be sure to let everyone know, since my love life has become everyone's favorite past time and talking point. Until then, I don't want to hear anymore about it. And I don't want to hear any more about Blake. I wasn't interested in him then and I'm not interested in him now. Actually, I would've preferred that he'd never come back here, honestly. Just thinking about him makes me angry and I think it's better that we don't discuss him right now. Okay?" Nancy drops her eyes to the floor.

"Alright, sweetie. In your own time I guess. But just keep in mind what I said. It's okay for you to let go, when you're ready," she replies.

I soften my voice and walk over to where she's sitting. She stands up and I take her hand gently into mine.

"Nancy, I don't mean to be short with you. It's just been a rough couple of days. I'm really sorry. I love you, you know that don't you?"

Bringing me into a tight embrace, she quietly says, "Yes, dear, and I love you as though you're my own daughter." She steps back and gives me a once over. "You look beautiful, Alex. You really do. You just go have fun tonight, and forget all this grown up stuff for a while. You deserve the break." She gives me a quick peck on the cheek before leaving me alone to finish getting ready.

Ten minutes later, there's a knock at the door. "Girls! Go get the door, please. It's Harlow."

"Yay, Harlow!" they all scream in unison.

Before I leave my bathroom, I take note of my appearance in the mirror. Hair down, naturally wavy and kind of messy, but cute. Silky champagne colored halter top...very simple but tight in all the right places. Black short shorts, a must for girls' night. And my favorite six inch T-strap champagne heels. Being 5'1", high heeled shoes are my weakness. I never have to worry about being too tall, so the higher the better. Plus, they make my legs look fantastic. Not that I'm trying to pick anyone up, but it's always nice to just feel s.e.xy and with three kids, feeling s.e.xy is something that doesn't happen too often.

Putting in my silver chandelier earrings, I take one last look, nod to myself in approval, and turn off the light.

Standing in front of the bar, Harlow runs her hands down the front of her outfit smoothing the non-existent wrinkles. "Do I look okay, Alex? I'm kind of nervous," she giggles.

I look at my best friend with her red curly hair flowing down to the middle of her back. She looks amazing. She's wearing a pale pink off the shoulder dress, which goes perfectly with her complexion, that hits her about three inches above her knees. It fits her like a glove. It's definitely tighter than my halter top. With her "hippie" wedge heels to round out the outfit, the kind with the tweed bottom, she looks absolutely beautiful. I'm pretty sure the nervous flush in her cheeks also adds to her beauty factor.

"You look gorgeous, Harlow. Trace is gonna pee himself when he sees you!" We giggle a little too loudly in the parking lot.

With a wicked smile playing on her lips, she replies. "Well, I hope not. Incontinence isn't really my forte."

G.o.d, I love this girl.

Once we finalize our appearances, we open the door and enter the bar. I yell to Harlow over the loud music coming from the deck. "How long has it been since we've been out here? It seems like forever!"

"It's been too long that's for sure! Let's grab some beers and then make the rounds to look for Trace," she yells back.

I nod my head and we make our way to the bar. Grabbing our beers we find an empty table, set our purses down and take our seats.

"Do you see him, Harlow?"

I watch her eyes move around the crowd. "No. Not yet. He should be here by now, though. Let me go check the other part of the bar. I'll be back. You stay here and guard the table."

"Okay. Be careful," I demand when she gets up to leave.

"No worries. I'll be right back."

I watch her as long as I can, just to make sure she's okay. Then I turn my attention to my cell phone, making sure Nancy hasn't called. I smile to myself as I picture the girls completing the wonderful make over they'd just started on Nancy as Harlow and I were leaving the house. Green eye shadow, very unnaturally red cheeks, and fuchsia lips. Hair teased and standing straight up...poor woman. It's gonna take her the rest of the night just to get the eye shadow off.

Throwing my phone back into my purse, I start to feel like someone is staring at me. And it's not a good feeling. I feel kind of gross, actually.

I look up to see Bobby Reeves making his way across the bar to our table. Ugh. My gut feeling was right, gross. I absolutely detest this man. He's one of those guys that used to be really good looking in high school, but didn't really age well...like, not well at all, but he thinks he did. You know those guys? The ones that gain fifty pounds and lose half of their hair, but they're still convinced that they're the varsity football captain. Bleh.

I dart my eyes in every direction but his, trying to scan the bar for any sign of Harlow or Trace. Just as I grab my purse and start to jump up from the table, I feel a hand on my arm, keeping me in place. "Don't worry, honey. I'll take care of it. No need to bolt," Harlow says with a smug smile, Trace in tow. Thank G.o.d!

Harlow protectively places her body in between mine and Bobby's. "Don't even bother coming over here Bobby Reeves. Just turn around and walk away!" She says shooing him with her hand. "She's not interested. In fact, for the record, she's never going to be interested. So just turn around and go back to where you came from, and I don't mean the table you happen to be parked at this evening, I mean go back to your wife!"

What? I cover my mouth to stifle my laugh.

Oh. My. G.o.d. I cannot believe she just said that. I look at Trace with wide eyes and we both start laughing. It can't be helped. What a douche bag. He deserved every bit of what Harlow gave him. I guess it has been a while since I'd been out with Harlow, because when the h.e.l.l did he get married?

Watching Bobby and his defeated stride as he heads back to where he was previously "parked", I make a mental note to try to catch a glimpse of the poor woman who thought it suitable to legally wed this man. Yikes...

I turn back to Harlow and Trace, giving them a grand smile.

"Hi, Trace. It's nice to see you again. I'm glad to see that you have indeed survived the first few minutes with Harlow. You're definitely doing much better than that guy," I offer, throwing my thumb over my shoulder, obviously indicating Bobby. I reach my hand out to shake his and notice that this man is absolutely, 100% drop dead gorgeous. I must have been extremely side tracked in the office that day, because this man is downright drool worthy. His clear, sky blue eyes are perfectly accentuated by his extremely dark lashes and dark eyebrows. And his smile is just as gorgeous. He actually has one of the most genuine smiles I've seen in a long time. Yeah, this guy is definitely growing on me.

I look over at Harlow and raise my eyebrows in obvious approval. She giggles, and resumes whatever conversation they had been having before going on the offensive against Bobby.

A good hour and a half later, I have learned that Trace O'Connell grew up in Waco. We graduated the same year, but he attended a private school, while Harlow and I were slummin' it in public. He left Waco for a while, but returned when he heard of the recent job opportunity, deciding it was time to move closer to his family, regardless if he landed the job at Synergy or not. A decision I very much respected.

We actually had a lot of the same acquaintances in high school, but I don't remember ever meeting him. Harlow, however, remembered exactly who he was. Which was the real reason for her rushing me the day of his interview. She confessed this to me during one of our many trips to the bathroom.

"I knew something was going on!" I yell from the other stall after her admission. "You were acting so weird that day!"

We giggle on our way out of the bathroom, stopping at the bar to grab another round of beers. Since I'm beginning to feel a little buzzed, I grab a gla.s.s of water as well. Heading back to the table, I stop dead in my tracks.

"Is that" I turn to Harlow with my eyes popping out of my head, probably very similar to certain cartoon characters I'm subjected to every Sat.u.r.day morning. I shift my gaze back to our table where I see him, standing right in front of me, in his stupid perfect jeans and his stupid perfect shirt, with his stupid perfect hair. All I want to do right now is punch him in his stupid perfect face.

"Please, Harlow, tell me you didn't," I say walking up to him, not bothering to wait for her answer.

I slam my beer down on the table, next to the gla.s.s of water, right in front of Blake...which actually did not have the effect I originally antic.i.p.ated. Instead of supporting my dramatic entrance like I wanted it to, the beer just foams up over the top of the neck of the bottle and starts flowing all over the table. I turn to Blake, trying to give off the vibe that I totally meant for that to happen.

"What the h.e.l.l are you doing here? Huh?" I snap at him, attempting my mommy death stare. Once again, I'm reminded it needs some serious upgrading, because he's looking back at me with his own Blake Morgan death stare. I would like to go on record that mine is much more intimidating than his.

"ALEX!" Harlow yells. "What's wrong with you?"

"I would just like to know what he's doing here." I keep my eyes fiercely glued to his while I continue speaking. "I mean, I'm sure that you already know what he's doing here, right Harlow? I'm sure that this is another attempt to save Alex from her miserable existence." I turn my glare to Harlow.

"Alex, I have no idea what you're talking about. And I have no idea what he's doing here. But, last time I checked, Waco was still part of the free country in which we live. I wasn't aware that there was some sort of requirement for an 'Alex Approved' guest list for George's Bar. If I had known, I would have sent out a ma.s.s email to all of Waco!" she shouts in my face.

Did she just "finger quote" me?

Turning back to Blake, I state matter-of-factly, "Newsflash...just as much for you as for everyone else I've been in contact with lately. I don't need you here to rescue me! I don't need you here to be my hero! What the h.e.l.l are you even doing here? I don't even want you here! Why can't you just leave me alone!" I am literally yelling at the top of my lungs and breathing like I just ran a marathon. Tears are forming at the base of my lashes, but I refuse to cry.

Blake doesn't say a word. He says absolutely nothing. He just looks at me, then Harlow, then says something that I can't hear to Trace, turns his back to me, and walks out of the bar.

"Really, Alex, you can be such a b.i.t.c.h sometimes," Harlow bites at me through her clenched teeth. She runs after Blake, leaving me on my own with Trace. What the h.e.l.l is her problem? I roll my eyes in annoyance and turn my attention to the stunned man standing next to me.

"Sorry about that, Trace," I say apologetically. "I've had enough of that man this week to last me a lifetime. I apologize for losing it like that, but I warned Harlow to not push me about him. It's kind of a long story."

We stare at each other for a minute. He seems hesitant to speak. I think I scare the poor guy.