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Her eyes glaze with sadness. “I’m a mom, but I didn’t see Ayla’s face when she asked Lux to let her tell you. When you see someone so sad and hurting, it’s really hard to say no.”

“Adults should know better,” I say, and she’s not going to convince me otherwise.

“Knowing better sometimes is not that easy when you love someone and when you understand where they’re coming from, like Lux does.”

“You think I should let her see Noris? You think that woman has a right to see her?”

Adri shakes her head. “I don’t know what you should do about that. What I do know is that Lux wasn’t thinking about anything but Ayla.”

“I’m not going to talk about her. It’s not fair. She’s your family.”

“So are you and Ayla. Don’t let this ruin everything…” She shakes her head again. “I won’t tell you what to do. Just let Ayla spend some time with Bron. I’ll bring her home after dinner.”

I remind myself that she cares, and this frees up my time to do what needs to be done. I nod. “Okay, I need to go see Noris and her mother. After what I witnessed today, I don’t think I should put A through that confrontation.”

“You’re right. She shouldn’t be in the middle. I don’t think she can handle it.”

I wait until our daughters come out and stand before us. Bron is almost openly glaring at me. My daughter doesn’t come near me. I can’t even put into words how much that stings. It’s like I’ve already lost her in a way. “Adri and Bron are inviting you to their house. I’ll see you at home tonight.”

She nods but doesn’t look at me.

I place a hand on her shoulder. “It’s just a game. You’ll win many more.”

“Yeah, thanks,” she whispers. The emotion in her voice stirs up the same pain that twisted my insides all night and didn’t let me sleep.

I need to handle her mother so I can fix things with Ay.

HAVE YOU EVER WANTED SOMETHING SO BAD, YOU SOMETIMES DAYDREAMED ABOUT IT?

By Bougie Girl

When I was little, my mother had a pair of patent-leather peep-toe Mary Janes. It was the most beautiful pair of shoes I had ever seen in my life. I’ve always had a love affair with classic heels. I would look through old magazines and cut out the pages with the heels I loved and kept them in a binder. I collected stilettos photos like other women collected pictures of wedding dresses and venues.

Yes, I had my own type of Pinterest before pinning was a thing.

On one of the worst days of my life, my brother took me to a vintage warehouse for my birthday, and I saw those same shoes my mother had. I wanted them immediately. I gasped and grabbed them with the intention of never letting go. Unfortunately, when I tried them on, they were uncomfortable to walk in, and they hurt my toes.

I was willing to risk it to keep them.

We’ve all suffered for beauty at some time or another. I walked a little more in them, and the heel was wobbly and folded, causing major pain in my ankle. I put them back, walking away with a broken heart.

Chase, being the man that he is, teased me about being sad about a pair of shoes in a warehouse full of them. I remember saying, “But those are the ones that I always wanted.”

He rolled his eyes and said, “I am sure there are better shoes than that here. Shoes that won’t hurt you or break your ankle.”

I almost hit him with a pair of platforms nearby. I kept walking instead, and not even fifty steps later, my gasp echoed against the walls of the Meatpacking District warehouse. I saw a pair of patent-leather, red T-strap stilettos with a light shining above them as if anointed by the angels. I swear to you, I heard music. These shoes were godsent, and they changed my perception. Because beauty like that doesn’t hurt. These shoes were gentle on my feet, gave me the added height any woman would want, and kept every eye on my legs. Mostly, they made me feel beautiful, like an Amazonian goddess.

One day, I made the grave mistake of placing them next to my vanity as I was doing my nails. I knocked over the nail polish remover, and it splashed over the front of the shoes. I won’t lie to you, I cried. I couldn’t think about how I would replace them. I thought about the irony of how I found them. I had been looking for something else that didn’t end up being good for me.

Great things come when and where you least expect them. They’re sometimes only fifty feet away, but you can’t see them because you’re focused on another thing.

This morning, because life struck again, I woke up thinking about those shoes and had to remind myself that there’s also fun in looking and evaluating my options. I will find the one…pair again. I got addicted to the feeling my T-straps brought me—the smiles, the way they slid against my skin, how I felt invincible in them—and I’m unwilling to go without it again.

I can search in New York, in Baltimore, or online. The places to look are unlimited, as is the style and the type…of shoes. That gives me a little bit of comfort because the search is the hardest part, but I refuse to go into it scared.

Let the search begin…again.

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