“I hear you had a scuffle with a hill yesterday and the hill won.”
“It won, all right.” Word spreads fast. I’ve been lying in bed for the past half hour, trying to psyche myself up to have a look at my ankle before attempting to hobble to the bathroom. I wouldn’t even have answered my phone if I hadn’t seen Bridget’s mom’s number on the display.
“I’m bruised and battered, but luckily still in one piece,” I add. The bruises started to form on my knees a few hours after getting home yesterday. I’d iced my ankle and lounged in bed, talking to both Hugh and Bridget on the phone before falling asleep early and somehow managing to sleep for nearly twelve hours.
“Poor girl.” Marla makes a tutting sound. “What you need is some good old-fashioned mothering. Bridget is with David for the weekend, so I’m going to come get you and you’ll spend today with me. You can sleep here and decide if you feel like going to work in the morning. We’ll watch movies and eat junk, and you can tell me about this handsome new guy Bridget keeps mentioning.”
I clench my eyes shut as tears threaten. My throat is so thick I have to swallow twice, and in that time Marla says, “You still there, honey?”
I clear my throat. “Yeah, I’m here. Just wondering how you knew that’s exactly what I needed.”
She laughs softly. “Let’s call it mother’s intuition.”
An hour later, Marla arrives to whisk me away. When I got off the phone, I’d invited Celia to come along, even though I knew her answer would be something in the variety of an eye roll or a snarky comment. I got both. I let her negativity slide, grateful to know I was about to have twenty-four glorious Celia-free hours.
Marla makes lunch when we arrive at her place, and we curl up on the couch with our food and Bridget Jones’ Diary, which we’ve seen at least a hundred times. “There’s comfort in familiarity,” Marla says as she hits play.
Can’t argue with that. Being here in the Higgins’ house, even without Bridget, makes me feel more relaxed than I have in a long time. I push all thoughts of Celia and work and everything else out of my mind. Well, not quite everything else; I can’t help the occasional thought of Hugh, which leads to a bit of zoning out now and then as I fantasize about us together, but honestly who could blame me?
It must be during one of those zoning out moments I fall asleep, because the next thing I know I’m waking up sprawled on the couch. The blanket that was draped over Marla’s and my laps is now tucked around me. The room is dark except for the lamp over the rocking chair in the corner where Marla is sitting with a book.
“I blame the pain killers,” I murmur, rubbing my eyes.
Marla sets her book aside. “It’s not the first time you’ve fallen asleep on that couch and I’m sure it won’t be the last.” She’s right; Bridget and I have often fallen asleep during movies or on lazy days when we were hanging out. There’s just something about this couch.
Marla comes to sit beside me, putting her arm around me. I snuggle into her, breathing in her light floral scent, which I know from years of experience isn’t perfume but a dab of essential oil. My own mother always smelled like clean laundry. To this day, I can’t catch a whiff of the brand of detergent or fabric softener we used when I was little without getting emotional.
“What’s on your mind, Ivy Girl?” Marla asks.
I sigh. “Everything is changing. And yet nothing has changed. Does that make sense?”
Her cheek brushes the top of my head as she nods. “Mmhmm. Want to tell me about it?”
“I miss Bridget,” I say in a small, pathetic voice. I sound like a little kid who’s lost her favorite toy. “I feel childish and silly saying that, but it’s true. I miss her. I didn’t expect either of us to stay single forever. I knew one or both of us would experience big changes in our lives eventually, but…”
“You thought you’d be first?” Marla asks.
I’d never given it much consideration, but I suppose if I had actually thought ahead and pictured our futures, I’d have been the one to find love first. “Bridget has always said I’m the romantic out of the two of us. She’s also said my high expectations would likely be the reason I’d stay single.”
“Do you agree?”
“Maybe? I guess. I’ve been single for so long, I’ve built up the image of the perfect guy and the perfect relationship in my mind. Now, without meaning to, those expectations are so high they’re completely unrealistic.” I’ve never said any of this out loud, not even to Bridget. I think it’s easier to say it here and now in this semi-dark room, being held in the arms of someone who loves me, feeling safe and secure.
“What about your ‘hot Scot’ as Bridget calls him?”
I smile at the mention of Hugh. “Hugh is great. And yet in a way, he’s part of the problem.”
Marla eases me away from her and I sit up all the way, shifting to face her. She looks at me imploringly. “He hasn’t treated you badly, has he?”
“No,” I say quickly. “No, nothing like that. It’s just things are sort of up in the air and he might be going back to Scotland after Christmas. We’ve agreed to take things one day at a time and just have fun, but it goes against everything in my nature. I’m afraid of getting in too deep and having my heart broken.”
“If he does go, it won’t be forever, right? He’d be back?”
“Eventually, yeah. I don’t want to do long distance, though, and neither does he.” I sigh again. “Part of me thinks no commitment would be good right now because I need to focus on myself, figure a few things out.” I don’t go into specifics about what those things are. I haven’t had a chance to talk to Bridget about where my head is at regarding my job. “The other part of me thinks I’m not built for a fling. I just want what Bridget has—a relationship I know is going somewhere.”
“If you’re giving it this much thought, I think it’s safe to say there’s already at least some feelings involved,” Marla says. “The thing is, Ivy, there are no guarantees in life. Sometimes you have to take your pleasure where you can get it. For however long you can get it.” Her gaze drifts across the room to the mantelpiece, where a variety of framed photos sit in a neat row. At the center, the largest of them all is a picture of Marla and Mr. Higgins on their wedding day. They’re young and happy, and from the way they’re looking at each other with big goofy smiles, it’s obvious they’re madly in love.
Guilt floods me. Here I am whining about this great guy I have in my life while Marla would give anything to have her husband back in hers. “I’m sorry, Marla. I’m being so insensitive.”
“Nonsense.” She turns back to me and takes my hands in hers. “You’re being realistic. Nobody would fault you for that. I’m sure even Hugh himself wouldn’t fault you for that. You deserve to be happy, Ivy. You deserve to have the life you want. Just remember sometimes that life ends up being different from what you imagined.”
She clasps my hands tighter, the movement making the faint light from across the room glint off her wedding ring. “There’s nothing wrong with having a little fun. Whether that leads to a happily ever after down the road, or whether Hugh isn’t the one, there’s no harm in enjoying the time you have with him now. You’re young and you have plenty of time to figure things out.”
I mull that over. “Let me ask you something,” I say slowly, and she nods. “If this were Bridget—if she had come to you and said she was going to have a fling with David or another guy—would you be so casual about it?”
She presses her lips together, and I get the feeling she’s trying not to smile. “Well,” she says at length, “I guess we’ll never know.”
“Oh, come on!” I snatch one of my hands from hers to flick her playfully on the shoulder. “What kind of answer is that?”
She wrinkles her nose. “An honest one. It’s not for me to approve or disapprove. If that’s what Bridget had wanted, I’d have supported her, just like I’m supporting you. You may not be my daughter by blood, but you know you’re mine in every other way.” Her light tone is undermined slightly by the wobble in her voice on the last few words. “Not everything has to be planned and not everything is set in stone. You can have a modern relationship, whatever that looks like for you. Just…just…” She averts her eyes. The light is faint in here, but I can see her cheeks are turning rosy. “Just for the love of god be careful because I’m not ready to be a grandmother yet!”
I burst out laughing. “You don’t have to worry about that, Mama,” I tell her, the words broken by my giggles. “If things get that far, I promise to employ the ‘no glove no love’ rule.”
Marla hops up from the couch. She shakes her head vigorously, even though she’s laughing now too. “I’m going to order pizza,” she declares, fleeing from the room.
The occasional giggle continues to roll out of me as I flop back on the couch and elevate my right foot. I haven’t felt much pain for most of the day, which is hopefully a good sign. I hear Marla’s voice from the kitchen, so she must have called the pizza place, despite the fact Bridget and I have showed her how to order online at least a dozen times.
As I wait, my mind replays bits and pieces of our conversation. I wouldn’t consider myself a prude by any means, but the guys I’ve had sex with in the past have all been boyfriends. I’ve never had casual sex because I’ve never dated casually. But Marla is right; I’m young and unattached. If I want to have a fling, and if that fling includes some sexytimes with the hot Scot, there’s nothing stopping me from enjoying every moment of it.
When Marla returns, we put another movie in while we wait for the pizza to arrive. It never takes long, and once it gets here, we dig in. I’m stuffing my face with a third slice when I hear the front door open. A moment later, Bridget appears in the living room doorway, her eyes moving between us and the food spread on the coffee table.
“Looks like I’m just in time.” She kicks off her boots and drops her overnight bag on the floor.
“I thought you were spending the night with David,” Marla says.
“Oh, I ditched him,” she says, waving a hand over her shoulder. “I couldn’t stand the thought of missing girls’ night. It’s been way too long.”
“Well then get over here.” I scooch to make room for her on the couch. “You’re just in time for the best part of the movie.” Bridget squeezes in between us, placing a kiss on her mom’s cheek, then my forehead before grabbing a slice of pizza.
We watch two more movies, stuffing ourselves with so much food I feel like I could burst. Marla falls asleep on the couch, so we cover her with a blanket and leave her there for now. Bridget helps me hobble up the stairs; I left my stuff in her room, figuring I might as well sleep there since she wasn’t.
“I’ll take my things to the guest room,” I tell her.
“Nah, sleep with me tonight.”
We change into our pajamas and get settled in Bridget’s bed. I never had sleepovers growing up; my mother didn’t like having other kids spend the night, and it was never an option with my aunt and uncle. My aunt barely even wanted me having people over during the day, which was fine since I didn’t have many friends. Bridget was the first person I’d ever shared a bed with, and we’ve done it so many times over the years, it feels like I’ve made up for all the slumber parties I missed in my childhood.
“I’ve missed this,” Bridget says into the quiet darkness.
“Me too.”
“I know things are changing, but I don’t want them to change too much.” She shifts toward me slightly. “I don’t ever want to stop having girls’ nights or hanging out. I don’t want to be the kind of girl who forgets about her friends—especially her best friend—because she’s in a relationship.”
“You’re not. You wouldn’t,” I assure her. “I’m not worried about that, if that’s what you’re thinking. I miss you and I miss how things used to be, but we always knew this would happen someday. That we’d become proper grown-ups and have lives outside each other.”
She chuckles. “True. Sometimes I feel like I’m struggling to adjust. To find a balance between work and David and Mom and you.”
“It’ll happen. These things take time.” Her hand brushes mine, so I hook my pinkie with hers. “I think you’re doing great,” I say around a yawn. “I’m really proud of all you’ve done in the last year.”
“Thank you.” Her voice is faint now. We used to stay up half the night talking when we had sleepovers, but we’re both fading fast. My last thought as I slip into sleep is how full my heart feels after a much-needed night with my two closest friends.