Four Little Problems

The odor of stale athletic socks and sweaty bodies lingered in the air, despite the elaborate decorations. Festoons of crepe paper and balloons, confetti on the refreshment table, disco balls reflecting the light. And on the dais, a DJ and sound system.

“Hey, wait up.” Patrick appeared at her elbow.

Inviting him had been a mistake. How could she have known he’d turn all goofy on her? First, his compliments had made her mad. How could he think she’d fall for that crap? But then she’d understood he’d been absolutely sincere.

Her chest grew tight. His sincerity had caused her to, for a very short time, figure she might stand a ghost of a chance with a man who saw her not as a brassy, burnt-out mom, but as the kind of woman she desperately wanted to be.

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