Page 137 of My Heart Still Beats
“You give that back, you son of a bitch.” He rises, rubbing his behind.
I dangle it right out of his reach. “I didn’t want to do this, but I think I’ll have to invoke the age-old finders-keepers rule.”
“You didn’t find it. You took it.”
“Potato po-tah-to,” I say. “I’ve got better things to do now. Donotcontact me again.”
Chapter Forty-One
Tessa
The flan is out of the oven and cooling. I place sugar and butter in a small saucepan to make the caramel sauce, and once the flan is set, I’ll refrigerate it and apply the sauce later.
Ben is coming.
I decide to take a shower, and then on a whim I paint my fingernails and toenails.
I had a manicure and pedicure in Jamaica, but I haven’t done this myself since…
Since before Garrett.
I wiggle my toes, looking at the light blue color.
I’ve missed this.
I’ve missed doing the silly things girls do—painting my fingernails and toenails, getting excited about a new guy.
It feels…
It feelsgood.
Part of it will always be tainted by what Garrett did. About what happened before my first communion.
And I’ll always miss my father.
But my heart still beats.
And I want to make the most of this life.
I dress in a pair of baggy jeans—boyfriend jeans as Skye calls them. But I like them. I like them because I can pair them with a tight top—today a skintight blue camisole that matches the color I painted my fingers and toes.
The contrast of the loose boyfriend jeans and the tight camisole looks good. Sexy, even.
Funny. I haven’t dressed to entice a man in a long time. Sure, I wore a bathing suit in Jamaica, but that was because I was in Jamaica. I was on the beach. That’s where you wear bathing suits.
I could’ve bought a one-piece for the trip, but I don’t like one-pieces. I hate how you have to take the whole thing off when you need to go to the bathroom. It’s a pain, and for that reason alone, I’ve always preferred two-piece suits.
My hair is clean and glossy, and I’m tempted to wear it down, but instead, because I’m cooking, I pull it up into a high ponytail to keep it out of my face.
When I look in the mirror, the person looking back at me finally looks familiar.
I’m back. I may not be completely healed yet, but I’m here. I’m me. And I’m cooking for a man I’m interested in. A man who has only kissed me once.
I need another kiss.
Old Tessa wore a lot of makeup. I was big on the smoky eye and lots of contour. Tonight I choose not to do that. I keep it to some lip stain and some blush with just a touch of mascara.
That’s it.
