Xoxo
The Lingerie Devotee
Find me at You Look Pretty Today on Madison Avenue
24
Peyton
I toss the birdie into the air, raise my racket, and serve it over the net. It soars. My mom lunges for it, smacks it back. I dive for the prize, whacking it underhand and up over the net again.
Fast and furious as always, she reaches for it and lobs it to me.
Back and forth we go for another several minutes until she misses.
I thrust my arms in the air. “Badminton champion in da house!”
She rolls her green eyes. “Yes, as a former high school badminton winner, you should take pride that you can beat your fifty-five-year-old mother.”
I tut her. “Mom. You’re fifty-six.”
She swats me on the butt with her racket. “And there are ten more spankings where that came from if you say my age again.”
“Oh please, you don’t look a day over fifty-five.”
Her racket connects with my rear again as we leave the badminton court, wishing good luck to the next pair ready to tackle the sport.
“You are a most impudent child,” she says.
“I’m the worst.” I shrug happily. Because I am happy. Happily counting down the hours till I see Tristan again.
Six hours and fifteen minutes. Tonight can’t arrive soon enough, but at the same time, I’m more wary than I was before. Because I don’t know where we stand. I couldn’t read him, couldn’t tell what he wanted, if he was feeling the same new and wondrous connection I was.
Does he only want to be friends with benefits? Friends who needed to get a little lust out of their systems?
Part of me fervently wishes he felt more. But anything more is too risky, so I shouldn’t even contemplate such possibilities.
“You okay? You drifted off there,” Mom asks, breaking my reverie as we exit the badminton club.
“Of course,” I say, quickly collecting my thoughts. “Just thinking about an order I placed this morning. For a second, I thought I forgot something in it,” I say, fashioning a cover-up for my wandering mind.
“Is business going well with this new blog series? I know it’s early days, but can you tell?”
“There is definitely an uptick in sales,” I say with a smile as we head to our favorite cafe for Sunday lunch. “It definitely seems to be helping bring a little more attention to the shop. Even Jay and his wife are getting into it,” I say, mentioning my brother.
“Your brother is wearing lingerie now? To each his own.”
I laugh. “Who knows? But check out this text from him.”
Jay: In case you’re wondering, the guy who placed the order for three new bustiers this morning was me.
Peyton: You’re going to look so pretty in that leopard print one especially.
Jay: Thanks. I was hoping it’d match my skin tone.
Jay: Also, they’re for Holly.
Peyton: Yeah, I figured. What with them being a petite and all. Unless you planned to wear the bustier on your leg.
Jay: Make that your next blog post. Unusual uses for lingerie.
Peyton: Maybe you should write it for me.
Jay: I’ll have it to you this evening. No photos though.
Peyton: Consider that a general rule of thumb for you, dear brother of mine.
Jay: Duly noted. Also, rush shipping please. As in overnight.
Peyton: They’re already with Fedex. Good luck making babies!
Jay: Was it that obvious?
Peyton: Yes.
I close the text app. “Maybe you’ll have grandkids soon, thanks to my blog.”
She gazes heavenward and clasps her hands. “Please let my daughter’s blog inspire my son to give me grandkids to spoil.” Then she looks to me. “I’m glad the blog is working so well. It’s hard to look away from it, after all. You’re really putting it all out there.”
I turn to meet her gaze as we reach the next block, curious what she means. “I am?”
“Yes, it’s incredibly open and honest. Readers and customers are connecting with that, I imagine.” She squeezes my shoulder. “I have to wonder if Tristan is too. He must be.”
I tense. “How should he connect with it?”
She stops outside the cafe. “How do you want him to connect with it? That’s the question.” Her eyes lock with mine, overwritten with motherly wisdom.
I swallow roughly. “Mom . . . is it obvious?”
She smiles softly, petting my hair. “That you have feelings for him?”
I wince, then admit the truth, since she’s seen through me already. “Yes.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” She wraps an arm around me and tugs me close. “It’s obvious to me because I know you so well. I know who you are, what you want, what you need.”
“And what is that?” I whisper.
“You want love. Great, beautiful, soul-searing love.”
“Mom, stop,” I say, as my heart catches in my throat. “That’s too much.”
She runs her fingers down my cheek. “You’ve always wanted that. And you’ve always trusted so easily. That’s why it hurt so much when Gage showed his true colors—because you did love him. You did trust him. And he broke everything that mattered to you.”
“He did.” But my voice doesn’t wobble this time because Gage is in the past. “But I’m over him. I’ve completely moved on.”
“I can tell completely,” she says with that sage look only a mom can give.
“How can you tell?”
“Because you’re falling for your best guy friend, and anyone who knows you the slightest bit can see it.”
I freeze as cymbals clang in my ears. As she bangs the gong. I could deny it. I could backpedal. But I am cellophane to her, and always have been.
“How?” I press. “How is it obvious?”
She looks to the blue sky, then recites my own words. “I’m saying this because I want you to feel as good as I felt last night. Everyone should feel as good as I felt. Last night was the pinnacle . . .”
“You can’t just quote me back to me.”
“But I can, and I did.”
“That was about—” I cut myself off before I say “sex” because I can’t just admit to my mom that we had sex.
She laughs deeply. “Wait! Do you think I couldn’t read between the lines? Sweetheart, I know you slept with him.”
My jaw drops, and I am the definition of aghast. “Mom!”
She waves off my outrage. “I don’t know that everyone else could tell you have feelings for him. But it seemed obvious to me.”
“It did?” I ask, worry striking a chord in my heart. Could he tell? “Do you think he knows?”