FLIRTING WITH 40

to get over stick-in-the-mud Paul than have a hot, young guy with all kinds of stamina who’d gladly ride you into finding your self-confidence again.”
“Your imagination is tireless.” The wine is hitting me, and my lips are starting to tingle.
“The answer, Blakely, would be yes.”
“You’re insane.”
“Say it with me. Yes.” She draws the single-syllable word out.
“I can say yes to you all you want, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing’s going to come of it. He was a chance meeting that’s gone and forgotten.”
“And sometimes fate works in mysterious ways.”
I roll my eyes dramatically. “Since when have you ever believed in fate?” I mutter to the one woman who grabs whatever it is she wants by the balls and takes it without asking.
She’s fearless.
And a whole lot more like who I’d love to be but can’t find the way to do so.
“I’m not handing over more wine until you say it.” Her eyes narrow in demand.
“Kels . . .”
“Say it.”
“Yes,” I say. “Sure.”
Her laugh fills the room. “I’m not buying it. I want the whole phrase: yes. It’s always yes.”
I slide an evil glance her way because I know she won’t stop until I give in. “Yes. It’s always yes,” I say in my most melodramatic voice.
“Yes!” She throws her free hand up and finally walks toward me and my empty glass. “Just you remember that! Next time you see him, you’ll say, ‘Hi, Slade. Yes, Slade.”
“Jesus. You’re—” An alert of sorts emanates from her phone, telling her that someone has just pulled up her driveway, and she groans.
Within seconds, the front door opens and then slams. We both wait for her to call out for her mom like she used to. The single word filled with excitement that she’s home and can’t wait to tell Kelsie how much fun she had at her friend’s house.
“Three. Two. One,” Kelsie whispers, knowing the tornado of walking hormones her daughter has been as of late.
I’ll just say my goddaughter and the term “bundle of joy” are as far apart as humanly possible at this point.
“Hi, honey,” Kelsie says as Jenna rounds the corner to the family room.
My heart floods with love at the sight of her. I know Kelsie is struggling with how much she loves her daughter and, at the same time, has days when she wants to tear her own hair out in frustration.
“Boozing it up again?” Jenna asks when she eyes the glasses in our hands, those gorgeous lips pulled into a sneer.
“Did you have fun at Andrea’s?” Kelsie asks with a timorous smile.
“Do you really care?” Teenage snark in full force.
I steal a glance at my best friend, knowing she’s debating if reprimanding her daughter is worth the fallout or if letting it go is just better to preserve the peace for the rest of the night.
Kelsie takes a sip of wine and sighs before giving her daughter a warning smile. “I’m going to ignore you said that.”
“I’m not,” I chime in because I can get away with more than Kelsie can since I’m not her mother. “Let me guess, you were tik-snapping and chat-tocking? Can we see some of them?” I hold out my hand for her phone.
“Eeew. No way.” Jenna takes a step out of the room in utter horror even though she knows damn well that I know it’s TikTok and Snapchat. But there’s a crack of a smile there, a hint of the sweet little girl I used to know, and for now, it’s enough. “I’ve got homework to do.”
“Good. You go do that and be responsible while your mom and I drink some more wine, talk about cute boys, and figure out how to make your life more miserable than it already is.” My smirk and shrug have Jenna rolling her eyes.
“So gross.” She huffs and then heads down the hallway and into her room, loudly shutting the door behind her.
“It’s a phase,” I say as Kelsie tips her drink to her lips.
“I know I have to pick my battles, but lately, it feels as if everything with her is an all-out war, so it’s just easier to ignore the attitude and move on.”
“Hormones, wondering if boys like you or not, the pressure of everything . . . it’s a lot for a fourteen-year-old to handle. I understand, of course, because I feel the same way most days.”
I laugh to hide behind the joke, but I know she sees what I keep hidden most days—the doubt of how I’m coping, the embarrassment and failure of not being able to make my marriage work, and more than anything, my loss of self-worth.
Her expression softens, and she looks at her wine for a beat before meeting my eyes again. “You need to let loose, B. You need to say fuck it to everything you never would have done before and just try it. What’s holding you back? Sure, you’re divorced, and damn straight, you’re flirting with forty, but you aren’t dead. You’ve dropped that ball and chain, and it’s your turn to fly.”
My raised eyebrows and heavy sigh are the only response I give her.
“Say yes. The answer is always yes.”

Blakely
“That’s just an outdated way of thinking and marketing. We need to—”
“I have years of sales data to back up the success of this marketing campaign. In the past, we’ve made a point to run the campaign sporadically, so when we do use it, it hits with a maximum punch,” I say, trying to tamp down my frustration. Heather catches it. I know she does. And the slightest smirk ghosting on her mouth says she really doesn’t care.
The worst part? The fifteen other attendees sitting in the product campaign meeting can see the look and can infer she doesn’t trust me.
Either that or they figure she feels threatened by me.
“We can definitely add it to our list of options, but it’s an old approach when we want to be progressive. The world is moving on, and yet, you . . . you seem to like the past.”
Her eyes hold