Page 68 of Balancing Act

BETH

Jamie 8:34 PM

Just checking that we’re still on for Sunday.

Beth 8:35 PM

We’re so on. Can’t wait.

Jamie 8:36 PM

Perfect. I’ve got something fun planned, but it has a bit of a dress code. Please wear long pants, closed-toe shoes, and clothes you don’t mind getting a little sweaty in ;)

Beth 8:38 PM

Any hints, or are you planning on driving me crazy as I let my imagination run wild for the next 48 hours?

Jamie 8:40 PM

No hints, but I have a feeling you’re going to like what I have planned. And please, by all means, let your imagination do its thing.

It had only been a week since that rainy walk, but everything felt different. She and Jamie had been texting every day, sometimes flirty messages, sometimes just sharing random moments. It was new, uncertain, and exciting. She could feel that Jamie’s walls, while still up, were slowly coming down, letting her in little by little.

Sunday’s date felt like the first real step toward a possible future together, and Beth found herself increasingly imagining what a future with Jamie might be like.

The sound of footsteps padding into the room pulled her out of her thoughts. Lily appeared in the doorway, tablet tucked under one arm.

“Hey, love,” Beth said, glancing up. “You okay?”

Lily nodded, a thoughtful expression crossing her face as she sat across from her at the counter, fiddling with the edge of her tablet case.

“What do you want for dinner?” Beth asked.

“I’m not hungry.” Lily shrugged.

“Not hungry? Who are you, and what have you done with my Lily?”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Mom,” she groaned, but her small, playful smile gave her away. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Okay, now her interest was piqued. Lily didn’t usually start conversations like this, not unless what she had to say was important.

“Of course, love. What’s on your mind?”

Lily shifted slightly in her seat, then pulled her tablet into her lap, looking down at it. “My birthday’s in a couple of days...”

Beth smiled. “It is. Any special requests for the big day?”

Lily’s eyes brightened. “Actually, yeah,” she said, turning her tablet around. A digital drawing of her room was on the screen—brightly colored, full of life and imagination. “I was thinking, for my birthday, could we paint my room together? Like, really paint it? Fun colors, cool designs. Here! I drew some ideas...”

Beth blinked in surprise as her eyes took in the riot of oversized floral blooms and abstract shapes that danced across Lily’s screen. It was a whirlwind of vivid pinks, deep greens, and splashes of bold yellow and black, like Lily had captured pure joy and chaos all at once. For a moment, Beth was overcome by a surge of pride and love so strong it left her breathless.

“Lil, this is—this is amazing,” she said.

Alongside the pride came a wave of guilt. When had Lily become so talented? When had she missed the quiet evolution of her daughter’s creativity? The realization hit her hard: in the whirlwind of co-parenting and her own attempt to reignite her artistic passion, she’d lost sight of Lily’s. Beth had spent so much time wrestling with the idea that Lily was becoming more like Sarah—precise, orderly, focused—that she had missed the part of Lily that was more like herself every day—the shared love for art in all its many forms.

Lily’s face flushed, a proud smile tugging at her lips. “You like it?”

“I love it,” Beth said, scanning the designs. “This is next level, Lils.”