TWENTY ONE

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Lauren opened the refrigerator and removed a container of orange juice. She carried it to the counter by the sink, lifted a glass from the dish drainer, and filled it. Phyllis sat behind her at the kitchen table, her coffee and morning paper at hand.

"I asked Camila to go to the Annenberg with me on Friday night," Lauren said quietly, turning to face her mother-in-law. "Can you watch Kyle?"

"I'm free," Phyllis said. "I'll take her to see that new animated movie she's been talking about."

"That would be great. Thanks." Lauren hesitated, reaching unconsciously to the ring on her left hand. The shock of its absence was momentarily distracting.

Phyllis watched the familiar movement, saw what had caused the odd expression on Lauren's face, and then slowly raised her eyes to the uncertain green ones that waited as if for judgment. "I like Camila ."

"So do I." Lauren's voice was husky. "It's...a date...Friday night."

"You know," Phyllis said, rising to cross to Lauren's side, "I don't just love you because you loved my daughter. I love you because I think you're a wonderful, warm, loving woman. I have only ever wanted you to be happy."

Lauren bit her lip, her eyes brimming. It had been a very long time since she'd sought comfort in anyone's arms, but it felt right to rest her head on Phyllis's shoulder and shed the last of the tears for a past she could not change.

"I don't know what Kyle or I would ever do without you."

"Well, I never intend to get very far away, so you don't have to worry." Phyllis leaned back and brushed the moisture from Lauren's cheeks. "There's something special about Camila—I could see it right away. And I approve of the way she looks at you."

Lauren blushed, hoping that Phyllis couldn't see too clearly what had been transpiring between her and Camila . "We're not...I mean, we haven't..."

Phyllis laughed and patted Lauren's cheek. "I'll see if Kim and Dennis want to go to the movies with us, and afterward the kids can have a sleepover at my place. I'll even bring Pooch over for the night. You'll have the house here to yourself."

"Thanks," Lauren said, still coloring. She was trying not to think too much about what might happen after the show Friday evening. The only thing she knew for certain was that she couldn't spend too many more nights dreaming of Camila in her bed. Rather than finding the increasingly erotic fantasies satisfying, even when physically they ought to have been, she awoke with a craving that verged on pain.

As unsettling as the idea of opening herself to Camila—to anyone—after all this time might be, the thought of remaining alone was far worse.

* * * * *

Friday evening, fresh from a shower and still in her favorite shapeless cotton robe, Lauren knocked on Kyle's partially open door and leaned her head into her daughter's room. "Do you need any help packing your overnight bag?"

"I can't find my pajamas." A scattering of toys, favorite books, and clothes lay over Kyle's bed. Her Harry Potter duffel bag lay open on the floor.

"Which ones?"

Kyle looked at her mother in amazement. "My dinosaur ones."

"Ah." Lauren nodded seriously. "They're downstairs on top of the laundry basket."

"'Kay. I'll go get them."

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