So shameless...
The zing of heat that goes through me at that bit of flirting makes the most ridiculous squeak come out of my mouth. After I get the oven pre-heating, I quickly go back to putting on some fresh makeup. I'm careful to make sure my eyeshadow, mascara, and lipstick are all perfect without being overdone for a night in my house. Adding a pair ofdangly purple earrings and my favorite matching amethyst cocktail ring from my Nana finish the look nicely. My curls are behaving today, framing my face in shining purple ringlets. Looking at myself in the mirror, I see bright, hopeful eyes, and a genuine, happy smile. My skin is flushed with excitement. It's a far cry from the woman I was looking at in the mirror around two months ago. I was haggard and drawn when it all happened, reflecting what was going on inside me. The woman I see staring back at me now looks lovely and confident.
Therapy didn't miraculously cure me today, but it helped quiet a lot of my intrusive thoughts. Right before Taran is due to arrive, I pull out my phone to turn some music on. Sinatra pours through the bluetooth speaker I have since he's a favorite of mine. My beloved late Papa would putter around the house, jingle the change in his pocket, and hum Sinatra every single time we visited. It takes me right back, and makes the ache of missing him and my Nana a little less. Their presence is here in her ring and his favorite music, and it’s exactly the comforting boost I need. My mom may have her issues, but her parents were the most incredible grandparents.
As I scroll though my phone lost in my thoughts, I see an email come through from my lawyer. The subject is the name of mine and Derek's divorce case. My heart rate kicks up with worry, wondering if something is wrong. When I read it, the worry melts away into a flurry of other emotions. It's an informal heads up from her that she received our final divorce decree today from the clerk. It all was filed quickly since Derek and I didn't have a messy trial, or kids to worry about once the initial papers were filed. I also didn't want a penny in alimony from him, or the house. It would feel like pity money, and keep mefinancially tied to him. Just getting what I was owed for the house and being done with it is more than plenty. I'm officially a divorced woman, and will have the papers and certificate for my records soon. It's all a little surreal in the moment.
I'm now a divorced woman.
The enormity of it washes over me, so many little pinpricks of emotion hitting me at once. There's the pain, regret, and disbelief. It all starts to ebb away though as I prominently begin to feel...relief.
It's relief that I can move on with my life with nothing hanging over my head after around two months of being in limbo. There's hope blooming fiercely in me now that I can find soul deep happiness with someone who will truly appreciate who I am, the woman I have fought like hell to become. Just as I'm having those thoughts, I hear a car pull up in front. Brody's ears perk up as he lifts his head off the couch next to me, and his tail starts thwacking the cushion as if he already knows exactly who it is. I get up as I hear him approach the door and knock. When I open the door for him, it's as if I'm opening the door on a new chapter of my life.
Chapter 14
Taran
When Lyra opens her door, I can't contain my sharp intake of breath. She then steals that breath right back out of me as our eyes meet. She looks incredibly beautiful as she always does. Her curls are shining in the soft light of her foyer, her lips look so kissable it pains me, and her curves in the jeans she is wearing are mouthwatering. There is something more, though. Her entire aura seems lighter, happier, and dare I say, hopeful? Those green eyes are more vivid than I have ever seen them, and she's glowing from the inside out. She's holding herself with more confidence.
“Hey you, come on in,” she says with a shy but radiant smile.
“Lyra, you look absolutely beautiful,” I tell her with a little hitch in my breath as she lets me inside. She ducks her head at that, but I can see she's trying to hide another smile.
“Thank you. You look pretty fantastic yourself,” she says softly.
“Careful there, Firecracker, or that might go to my head,” I tease as she chuckles.
Putting down my bag of food, I pull her into a hug with a chaste kiss to her forehead, and she melts against me. Brody is dancing around us until he decides he's had enough of us hugging and shoves his nose between us for attention. We break apart, and I squat down to scratch him behind his ears while he chuffs happily. The thought slams into me that instead of coming home to an empty apartment after work, this would be the absolute best way to come home. I can picture it so clearly that my chest constricts: Evenings spent having dinner together and taking Brody for long walks. Cuddling while watching a movie. Wandering the shops or the farmer's market over the weekend. Making love whenever we want. Going on nice vacations together. I'm in so much fucking trouble.
“The oven is all ready, what do we need to do first?” she asks, completely oblivious to my domestic bliss fantasies as she focuses on the bag of food I brought. Brody is already eyeing it hungrily, too. I clear my throat and pick up the bag.
“Lead the way to the kitchen! We just need to get these babies on a sheet tray and let them warm up for 10-15 minutes. The two toppings don't need to be heated up,” I tell her. She nods and we head into the kitchen, where she pulls out a baking sheet and lines it with a silicone mat. We line up six of the beauties and get them in to heat up while I chatter on about the toppings, how Alejandra makes them so well, what the filling is, and just generally waxing poetic. She’s practically drooling, her eyes gorgeously lit up while I talk. When they're done in the oven, she gets out plates and glasses while I set up the toppings. I show her how to spread a thin layer of the red sauce on top of the pupusa,followed by evenly dispersing the curtido on top of the sauce. When she takes her first bite, I'm ecstatic about how her eyes widen, and then it's all over for me completely when she does a little happy dance in her seat about it.
“This is incredible,” she moans as she takes another bite. “I love how the spicy sauce and briny slaw cuts through the rich meat and cheese. It's a perfectly balanced bite.” Then she stares at her plate and dramatically exclaims, “where have you been all my life,” complete with a hand over her heart.
I lose it laughing, she is the cutest person I have ever met.
“I’m glad you like it,” I tell her, still grinning like the completely lovesick idiot I am. “Alejandra is going to cry the biggest happy tears when I tell her how much you're raving about it.”
“Please please please make sure you tell her how much I love them and thank her a million times for me.” Her smile is so bright and unrestrained that my heart starts pounding. I need to touch her, so I lace my fingers with hers on the table.
“I definitely will. You're very passionate about food, aren't you?”
She nods emphatically. “My entire family was and is excellent in the kitchen, from my grandparents to my oldest nephews and nieces. I grew up with a big appreciation for food.”
“What's your favorite? You said you love Italian, right?”
“Oh yes, pasta is life for me, and any type of parmigiana. My dad's mom, my Nonna, made these huge, incredible spreads on Sundays for everyone back in the day. My other Nana was Lebanese, so I love all of that too. She'dmake tabbouleh, za'atar chicken, you name it. What about you?”
“My mom's side is mostly Italian too, I grew up with it just like you. My dad's side is super Irish, so I also grew up loving bangers and mash, colcannon potatoes, that kind of thing. Your grandmothers sound amazing. I never really got to meet mine, they all passed before I was born or when I was just a baby.”
Her face falls. “I’m so sorry, Taran.”
I shake my head, indicating she shouldn't worry. “It's hard to miss what you don't know, I didn't mean to bring things down. Tell me more about yours. What about your grandfathers?”
“I never knew my dad's dad, he passed away when my dad was 17. My Papa was the greatest man I've ever known, though. When I was going through everything, he started calling me TK, for Tough Kid. It always made me feel better knowing he thought I was tough. He'd make these decadent milkshakes and fresh squeezed orange juice for us all of the time. He never walked around his house in any way but dressed up in pressed pants, collared shirt, and shined shoes. I never heard him raise his voice in my life, he was so gentle. He and my Nana taught me so much, and he's the one who got me into Sinatra,” she finishes, indicating the speaker from which Old Blue Eyes is crooning, a wistful smile on her lips.
“He sounds like the most amazing grandfather.”