Nobody’s Perfect

Epilogue

Not quite a year later

Mom and Connie-short for Consuelo, I d discovered-had not only relocated to Atlanta, but they had moved in with me. I d gladly given them the primary bedroom with all its fraught memories, and they paid me rent to stay while Mom got the lay of the real estate land in metro Atlanta. It was a win-win situation all around.

Or it should have been.

I had a therapist, and my Target employee discount was paying off. My divorce had been final for almost two weeks. Tabitha had had her baby back in May, and little Gabriella was precious despite having Mitch for a father. Sometimes I babysat her, which had to be one of the weirdest ex-wife duties in the world-or it would be if I didn t make him pay me for it.

The Mom Scouts channel was going steady, if not strong, and business was picking up again thanks to the TikTok videos Dylan had shown me how to make. Both Busy Mom Cosmetics and Vine Friends had ghosted me, but I was actually relieved because that left me free to do whatever I wanted to do and to promote whoever I wanted to promote, like Lit Wines.

But something was still amiss. I d been baking again and was wiping down the already clean counter, lost in my thoughts.

Okay, Vivian, what s got you sighing so much on your day off? Mom asked from where she and Connie sat at the breakfast room table, working on a crossword puzzle. Together. Like the lovable weirdos they were.

It s nothing. I felt the sigh coming that time and held it in.

Oh, it s something. You ve had that scrunched-up look on your face for weeks. Ever since the divorce came through. She made a choking sound. Tell me you re not regretting the divorce.

No, it s-

A little sadness is to be understood, even if you re relieved for the most part.

That s not it. Maybe-

Well, something is bothering you, because you ve been baking nonstop for a week.

Mi cielo, let her talk, Connie said in a soothing voice.

Both women looked at me expectantly, double the maternal interrogation.

It s Parker. I don t know what to do now.

What do you mean? Go next door and knock. When he answers the door, ask him if he d like to come over for some hot monkey sex. Connie and I can clear out for a while.

What started as a blush morphed into a hot flash. Now I knew how Dylan had felt when I d so glibly lectured him on condoms. As a wise young man once said to me, Mom. Please don t talk about sex ever again.

I wouldn t have to talk about it if you would just do it.

Mom!

But use a condom.

Mother.

It s perfectly natural. Healthy, even.

Karma had found me much sooner than I had anticipated.

I m not worried about the sex.

Okay, I was a little worried about the sex because I hadn t actually had sex since Mitch s cruel accusations, but I had a therapist for that.

Then what are you worried about, mija? asked Connie.

My insides melted at her term of endearment. I d learned that mija literally meant my daughter, and yet it rolled off her tongue with ease.

I know he said he d wait, but what if he s found someone else but just hasn t mentioned it at our Wine Down Wednesdays?

Then he s found someone else, and you ll find someone else, too, Mom said.

But how do I know I m interested in him for him and not just looking for another relationship?

The fact you re still talking about him all these months later is a pretty good indicator, Mom said before gesturing to all the baked goods. As is all of this.

Now, Heidi, Connie said. She laid a hand gently on Mom s forearm, and I had to marvel at their contrasts. She had long brown hair and the lithe body of the yoga instructor she was. Mom was more compact, with salt-and-pepper hair. Connie almost always wore a serene smile. Mom wavered between amused and irritated. I was especially glad for Connie as she added, Be patient.

I ve told her a million times to just go knock on his door and see what happens. It s maddening.

Mi amor, she s nervous. Surely you understand that.

Suddenly, I was trembling. Hot tears streaked down my cheeks, and I hated the feeling. I just don t want to make another mistake. And rebound relationships are always mistakes. It couldn t be this easy, and if I waste time here, then I m going to be older and-

Ma am. Being older is not a crime. It s a gift, Mom said.

That same fear of being wrong seized me. I d stuck my foot in my mouth yet again.

You know what she means, Connie said, her voice a balm that eased both the tension in my mother s shoulders and the knots of anxiety in my stomach.

Mom sighed, then turned to look at me. Viv, I don t have the answers you want. Look how many tries it took for me to find my person.

But what if he s moved on? What if he doesn t feel the same way about me?

And now your anxiety spiral is repeating. Besides, Mom said with a snort, a hundred bucks says he d be over here in less than a minute if you texted him right now.

You make a lot of hundred-dollar bets for someone who never carries cash, I said.

If you re always right, you never have to pay out.

All I know is that I cannot take any more of your stress baking, Connie said. It has been too many cookies, and my aura is . . .

Sugary? Mom said.

Not good, Connie said. But the sugar? It has me on a roller coaster. Still, I cannot resist your dulces.

Oh. I looked over at the chocolate oatmeal cookies that were cooling on a rack.

No, no, no, Connie said. Do not stop for me. I should not have said anything.

Or, my mother said, holding up one finger, you now have an excellent excuse to go see Parker. You made too many cookies. Maybe Cassidy would like some.

But for Cassidy, I should ve made regular chocolate chip, don t you think? I said as I turned to the pantry.

Vivian Loraine, if you get that flour canister out, so help me I will dump its contents over your head.

I removed my hand from the canister.

You are Vivian Quackenbush, headmistress of the Mom Scouts. You no longer dither.

If only it were that simple.

You ran your ex-husband out of this house through a carefully orchestrated campaign of terror. You can handle dating.

But what if I only know how to tear things down?

You are Vivian Quackenbush, headmistress of the Mom Scouts. You-

I held up a hand to stop her. I no longer dither. I got it. And I ll box up these cookies and take them to Abi and Rachel, then look for a healthier way to handle my nerves while I figure this all out.

Or . . . Mom s smile was positively Grinchian.

Or what?

You can chat with Parker in just a few minutes. I texted him about our surplus of cookies.

Mom, I can t believe you!

You don t have to discuss anything weighty if you don t want to. You can just hand him the cookies. Say hello. See if you still feel like jumping his bones.

The doorbell rang, and my pulse could ve kept time with the reggaeton that Connie liked to blast while cleaning the house.

Mom held out a hand. A hundred dollars, please.

I never took that bet. I frantically fanned myself as I walked to the door, because the hot flash had come back around.

Sure enough, there stood Parker on the other side. He looked slightly out of breath, and that made my heart skip a beat. Could he possibly still be interested in me?

I hear there are cookies.

Come on in, I said. I ll put some in a container for you.

As we reached the kitchen, Connie and Mom were slipping out the back door. Fortunately, it was a pleasant fall day, but I couldn t decide if granting us privacy was thoughtful or cruel.

The kitchen felt awfully small.

Come on, Vivian, use your words.

Coward that I was, I reached above the microwave for the plastic containers I usually used for Christmas treats. It wasn t Christmas, but I did need a container. Only, I also needed a chair. The containers started to fall. Suddenly, Parker was behind me, reaching for-and catching-the containers.

You are Vivian Quackenbush, headmistress of the Mom Scouts. You have survived a divorce, lived through a viral video, talked a Target manager into giving you a job, traveled to California all by yourself, and learned to take ownership of your mistakes. You can do this.

And if you find yourself in another relationship that is bad for you, then you can and you will walk away. You no longer dither.

Thank you. I turned around. Parker took a step back, respectful as always, but his spicy aftershave lingered. Those whiskey-brown eyes studied me. His expression gave nothing away, but that little muscle in his jaw flexed, which reminded me of the first day I met him.

Do you think . . . ? My words left me.

Why was this so hard? Couldn t he say something? Smile, at least?

No, he couldn t and he wouldn t because he had promised me that he would wait. He had told me to take the time I needed.

Parker, what s my favorite color? Where had that come from? I really had lost my mind. The hot flashes had fried my brain. This was it. He was going to walk out the door.

He frowned slightly. I don t know.

Honesty, that was a good start.

But you look really good in red.

Anxiety whooshed from my body, but a thousand butterflies hatched in my belly.

You are Vivian Quackenbush. No. You are simply Vivian. Vivian Loraine, daughter of Heidi and mother to Dylan, and you are going to earn your Take a Chance for Love Badge.

How would you feel about returning to that conversation we put a pin in a while back?

His lips curved into a smile that reached all the way to his eyes. I thought you d never ask.

Our bodies leaned together of their own accord. The touch of his lips still set off fireworks. Or maybe that was Mom and Connie excitedly clapping and tapping at the window. I was a bit too preoccupied to be sure.

We might ve kept kissing, but we had a prior engagement.

I sent Parker with cookies for Cassidy, hoping they might soften her up a bit toward the woman he was going to be dating. I knew I d see him again momentarily, but it s awfully hard to be patient when you re ready to start the rest of your life right now.

Okay, y all can leave the backyard now, I said as I leaned out the back door.

See? How hard was that? Mom asked, entirely too pleased with herself.

I would ve gotten there eventually.

She made a scoffing noise as we headed to the garage to get our camp chairs.

Abi had beat us out to the cul-de-sac and was humming to herself while knitting. Barney lay at her feet.

Rachel appeared next, carrying a bucket seat, her camp chair, and a satchel slung over the other shoulder. I jumped up to take baby Gabriella.

You didn t tell me you were babysitting.

Rachel grimaced as she set up her chair. Tabitha and Mitch had tickets to a show at the Fox but forgot to get a sitter.

More like they wanted free babysitting and knew I would ve charged. At least I wasn t on the hook for any dirty diapers since I wasn t officially on the job.

Who s the cutest baby in the world? I asked Gabriella as I sat her seat on the ground between Rachel and Abi, a prime location for playing peekaboo from my chair. She rewarded me with a coo and a smile.

Mom and Connie had set up our chairs, leaving a space for Parker between Mom and me. He appeared minutes later, unable to hide his grin. Pretty sure I couldn t keep the smile off my face, either.

You two a thing now? Abi asked without even looking up.

As of about ten minutes ago, I said.

About damn time.

Shh! The baby! Rachel said.

The baby was tired of waiting, too, I bet. Abi put her knitting in her bag and gave Rachel a look that suggested she didn t appreciate being shushed.

Whatever. White or red? asked Rachel.

We answered all at once, and she sighed in exasperation. Raise your hand if you want white. Okay. Everyone else is getting red.

And what are we drinking this evening? I asked as I passed the hat. Now that there were so many of us in the cul-de-sac, it hardly seemed fair for Rachel to buy the wine by herself.

Some of your Lit Wines, she said with a smile. The Dorothy and the Shirley.

I had to smile as I thought of Marisol. Good thing I d locked down that partnership with her before she won all those fancy awards. She was in demand now. And that was only fair, because she was the real deal.

As were all these people-my favorite people-gathered around me.

Parker reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze.

I blushed like a schoolgirl, sipping my wine as I drank in all the happy chatter around me.

Contentment Badge achieved.