Well Matched (Well Met #3)(70)

So I was feeling pretty good about things for the most part when I got up the next Saturday morning, except for that one word, like a black spot on my psyche.

Mundane.

Great. It wasn’t even eight a.m. on Saturday and I was already getting a headache.

“Hey, Mom?” Caitlin’s voice floated down the hall from her room.

“Yeah?” I called back, turning to look at myself sideways in the mirror. I’d gotten some new knee-length shorts that weren’t doing a damn thing to make me not look like a middle-aged mom, but they were long enough that they covered the worst of my scar, so I could live with that. Because no matter what, I was a middle-aged mom. No point in trying to hide that.

Mundane.

Shut up. “Yeah, Cait?” I said again, going out into the hallway, where my daughter met me. She was wearing her long underdress and her boots, which was all she wore on the ride over to the Faire site. Her hair was already braided into two plaits on either side of her head. Once on the grounds she would lace into the long yellow overdress, put on a little lip gloss, and she’d be ready to go.

“I forgot to ask, but Nina invited me to her house tonight, is that okay?”

“Oh.” I shouldn’t have been surprised. Caitlin and Nina had been friends since they were in elementary school. They even volunteered for this Faire together. And in a few short weeks they’d be off to different colleges, meeting entirely new people. That had to be scary. It was tough to face the future without your best friend by your side.

But it wasn’t time to think about Caitlin going off to college yet. It was just the first weekend of August; we still had some time. I crossed my arms and leaned in the doorway. “I guess that means more Chinese takeout for me.”

“Just save me some sweet and sour.” She flashed me a grin and darted back into her room to finish getting ready.

“What makes you think I’m going to order sweet and sour if you’re not here to eat it?”

“You know you like it!” There was a giggle in her voice and I shook my head, not even trying to hide my smile.

“Do not.”

I drove her to Faire that morning, with the understanding that Nina would drive them both back to her place. We pulled into the parking lot a few cars over from Nina’s so Caitlin could throw her overnight bag inside. As I reported to my post forty-five minutes before gate opened, ready for my volunteer shift, I was already mentally planning the rest of my day. Long, hot bath instead of a quick shower before Cait came home. Dinner from the Thai place instead of Chinese . . . though maybe I should pick up some sweet and sour for Caitlin to have tomorrow night. There was a documentary streaming that I’d been meaning to watch but had never taken the time to. Maybe tonight would be perfect for that.

A picture came to my mind, unbidden: another evening alone on the couch with the remote in my hand. The thought made me want to burst into frustrated tears right there in front of a scantily clad female pirate and the wizard on her arm. I was a woman who kissed men in kilts at a Renaissance Faire, for God’s sake. Was an evening of takeout and television my best option? Surely I could do better than that.

Oh, God. Now I knew why the leatherworker’s words had hurt so much. Because they’d described me to a T: I was mundane as hell. All these years not getting involved. Eyes straight ahead. Raising my daughter on my own. The most excitement I had in my life were my fucking book clubs.

Even now, when my sister and my daughter and my friends were all a part of this magical, whimsical event, all I did was sell tickets. Not committing enough to wear a costume or have any actual damn fun. No, I stayed on the outside looking in, sticking to my same old routine. Routines were safe. Routines were reliable.

But routines were boring. And so was I. And I couldn’t stand it for one more minute.

I had to, though, so I bit hard on my lip and kept selling tickets. Smiled and joked with Nancy until my shift was over. But instead of going straight to my car, I left my keys in my pocket and headed for the front gates of the Faire.

Emily wasn’t at the tavern, so I doubled back to the Marlowe Stage, hopping impatiently from one foot to the other, waiting for the Dueling Kilts’ set to be over.

“Hey, you okay?” Daniel touched my elbow, and I was wired so tightly I almost flew out of my skin. He looked down at me, his brow furrowed. “You seem . . .”

“A mess?” My laugh was almost frantic, and I didn’t understand why. What was happening to me?

Daniel studied my face. “I was going to say ‘over-caffeinated.’ Everything all right?”

“Sure.” I forced a deep breath, then another. “I just need to talk to Stacey, that’s all.”

“Well, let’s go get her. I can man the merch table for her.” He ushered me ahead of him and we skirted the audience toward the merchandise table. I hung back while he talked to Stacey, and she turned a concerned face toward me. I tried to look cool, but cool had left the premises a while back.

“Hey, what’s up?” Stacey’s voice was elaborately casual.

“Stace . . .” I wasn’t sure what I wanted to ask, or how to put it into words. So I did the best thing I could: take a deep breath and plunge on ahead. “Am I mundane?”

Her eyebrows flew up and she blinked. “Well. You’re not in garb, so . . . yeah? I mean, it’s not like it’s a bad thing. It’s just a . . .” She shrugged. “A thing.”