Page 9 of All Your Dreams

Marshall’s mouth twitches before he lets out a short huff, setting his cup down with more force than necessary. “So you’re one of those women.”

I blink at him, caught off guard. I’m finally dating after my marriage came crashing down, and this is what I get—a judgmental manchild. No fucking way.

“One of those women?” I ask, not caring how fed up I sound.

“Those who go crazy over flowers like my ex,” he mutters, taking another sip of his bland coffee. “I should’ve known you women are all the same.”

I feel the familiar instinct to smooth things over by shifting the conversation somewhere safer, but a bigger part of me resists. Maybe it’s the miles I’ve already put between myself and everything I left behind. Maybe it’s the realization that I don’t have to sit here and accept being spoken to like this. Irritation and anger bloom in my chest as I think about all the times I made myself smaller to keep the peace, all the times I nodded along instead of pushing back. If I wrote every single one of those moments down, the list would be as long as a pharmacy receipt. I will no longer listen to a man who speaks to me like trash. I’m done.

I set my tea carefully and meet his eyes for the first time. “I get it now.”

“What?” he asks with a confused frown.

“Your ex wasn’t the problem, you were,” I hold his gaze for a moment longer, then reach for my bag and stand up. “Have a nice life…or not.”

He doesn’t respond and I don’t wait for him to. The bell above the diner door chimes as I push it open, the sound marking the end of this nightmare.

Outside, disappointment settles heavy on my shoulders. Not because I wanted things to work with Marshall, but at the state of dating. I pause beside my car and let my head dip, breathing through the wave of resignation before unlocking the door.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, I stare at the wheel, wondering not for the first time, why finding a good, reliable man feels like solving a riddle with half the clues missing. A laugh slips out before I can stop it. Not because any of this was funny, but because the absurdity of the morning finally catches up with me. What a disappointment it has been.

Only a few months ago, I would’ve stayed and tried to get along with him. Today, I didn’t. It’s strange to realize how much of myself I gave away in small, barely noticeable pieces. Not all at once, but slowly over time. A softened opinion here. A swallowed comment there. A compromise that didn’t feel like one until much later. Somewhere along the way, it became easier to give in than to push back.

Not anymore. The old, scared version of me doesn’t get to make decisions. She was left in San Diego. The new, improved me will keep showing up. I can’t wait to get to know her better.

Three hours into the drive to Indianapolis, my phone buzzes on the seat next to me, cutting off my car karaoke session mid-chorus. I reach over and peer at the screen. Mom. There was a time not that long ago when I would’ve let the call ring out, texting her later with some excuse. Now I make an effort, realizing how much I missed my family while I was with Nathan.

I tap the screen and switch her to the speaker, setting the phone next to me. “Hey.”

“Hi, sweet pea. How’s your day so far?”

“Eventful,” I groan.

“That doesn’t sound reassuring.”

A small, humorless laugh leaves my lips. “I went on a blind date this morning before hitting the road.”

There’s a long enough pause that I can picture her expression perfectly before my dad’s voice cuts in. “You did what?”

“It wasn’t planned,” I say quickly, even though there’s no need to defend my actions. “The owner of the place I stayed at set me up with her grandson.”

“And you agreed?” Mom is clearly surprised. It was only a few weeks ago when I told her that I wasn’t ready for dating anytime soon.

“Apparently I’m still working on that whole saying no thing.”

“How did the date go?”

I stare straight ahead, watching a truck pass me in the opposite lane. “Not great, but I didn’t stay that long,” I admit with a sigh.

My dad mutters his approval, and I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips. He never liked my ex, not really. Though apparently, the idea of me dating at all is its own kind of battle. Baby steps.

“Are you okay?” Mom asks, her voice softer now.

“I think so.”

The silence that follows stretches out, and for once, I don’t rush to fill it. I don’t scramble to make things sound better than they are.

“I honestly don’t know if I am,” I add after a moment, the words scraping against my throat. For too long, every phone call home had been cut short and every question answered with different versions of I'm fine. One day, the silence between us had become easier than the truth. But I don't want that to be us anymore, even if I have to stumble through every conversation to change it.