Benjamin Kempball: The Way To A Banker’s Heart

Chapter 8: Violet

“Why did I let you talk me into this?” I groaned, turning in front of the mirror in my bedroom for what felt like the hundredth time.

“Because you’re twenty-two, Vi. You need a romantic life as well as a mom life,” my mother reasoned, her voice calm and reassuring. As much as I hated to admit it, she had a point.

The problem wasn’t the date itself. It was that I had nothing to wear. Nothing in my closet felt right—nothing pretty enough, nothing that felt like me. Benjamin deserved better, and I was stuck feeling like a mess. My bed was covered in rejected dresses, their bright colors and soft fabrics scattered haphazardly in my frustration. Each had been tried on, scrutinized in the mirror, and discarded with increasing irritation.

“But I have nothing to wear!” I said again, the irritation in my voice sharp as a knife. My hands were trembling, a familiar wave of humiliation threatening to creep in and overwhelm me.

“Deep breath, Violet,” Mom said gently. She got up from her chair and came to stand behind me, resting her hands lightly on my shoulders as she looked at my reflection in the mirror. Her green eyes, so different from mine, softened with affection as she studied my face. “What’s wrong with this one?” she asked, tilting her head toward the dress I was currently wearing.

“It’s too booby,” I muttered, gesturing at the neckline with a helpless wave of my hands. The top was low enough that it felt like my chest was trying to escape.

“That’s the only problem?” Mom asked, one eyebrow arching skeptically.

I nodded, biting my lip. I had always loved this dress. I’d bought it the summer before I got pregnant, and despite the years that had passed, it still made me feel beautiful. The black fabric, patterned with delicate flowers, flowed loosely down to just below my knees. It was simple yet elegant, and it had always fit me perfectly—except for this one issue.

“We can fix that,” Mom said with the confidence of someone who had done this a hundred times before. She reached for the straps in the back and adjusted them, pulling the front of the dress up just enough to make me feel comfortable again. “How about that?” she asked, stepping back to admire her handiwork. Her hands came to rest on my upper arms, giving them a supportive squeeze.

“Better,” I admitted, turning slightly in the mirror to examine the new fit. The dress still flattered my curves, but now it felt less revealing, more me.

“You look amazing, Vi,” Mom said, her voice warm and full of pride.

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “What am I doing, Mom? I don’t know how to date. I don’t know what to talk to him about. What if it’s the most awkward thing in the entire world?”

“If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out,” she said simply. “Don’t put unnecessary pressure on the evening. If it’s awkward, there’ll be other people around, and if it’s not, then just enjoy it. Take it one moment at a time.” Her voice was soothing, like it had been when I was a child, calming me after a nightmare.

“You haven’t seen him, Mom. He’s gorgeous,” I said, spinning around to face her, my hands gesturing animatedly. “And tall. He’s so incredibly tall. And when he smiles…” I trailed off, sighing dreamily as I shook my head. “I’m going to mess it up. I just know I will.”

“You won’t mess it up,” she said firmly, her tone brooking no argument. “Now stop putting yourself down, Vi. You’re an incredible young woman. You’re raising a child, you’re funny, you’re caring, and you look amazing. He’s lucky to even have your attention, and don’t be afraid to tell him that.”

Her words sank in slowly, bolstering my confidence like they always did. I stood a little taller, my shoulders relaxing as I met her eyes.

“You’re right,” I said, nodding with a determined smile. “I’m amazing, and smart, and everything he could ever want!”

“That’s the spirit!” Mom grinned, leaning in to press a kiss to my cheek. “Now, Rose and I need to leave before he gets here—unless, of course, you want them to meet?”

I shook my head quickly. “Not tonight. I want to get to know him better before Rose meets him.”

I followed her into the living room, where my daughter sat cross-legged on the floor, a coloring book spread out in front of her. The sight of her tiny frame, bent intently over her crayons, filled me with a sudden calm. Rose was my anchor, my reminder that I was capable of anything. If I could raise this beautiful, vibrant little girl, I could survive one date with Benjamin.

“Sweetie,” I said, squatting down beside her.

She looked up, her big brown eyes lighting up the moment she saw me. “Mommy, you’re so pretty!” she squealed, her tiny hands flying up to cover her mouth in excitement.

“Thank you, sweetie,” I said, my heart swelling as I took her hands in mine and kissed them. “Grandma’s going to take you home with her now, okay? Then I’ll come pick you up tomorrow, and we’ll spend the whole day cuddled up together. Just you and me. How does that sound?”

“Okay, Mommy!” she said brightly, her smile so wide it revealed the little dimple in her cheek.

She leaned forward, puckering her lips for a kiss. We met halfway, pressing our lips together with an exaggerated muah that made her giggle uncontrollably. The sound was music to my ears, pure and unfiltered joy.

“I love you,” I said, wrapping my arms around her in a tight hug before standing and swinging her around.

“I love you too!” she squealed, her laughter echoing through the room as we twirled in circles.

I gently set Rose down, watching as she immediately started gathering her pencils and slipping them into her small school bag, the one she always brought over to my mom’s place. Her movements were quick and practiced, a sign of just how familiar she was with this routine.

“I’ll come over early tomorrow,” I reassured my mom, though I knew she didn’t really need the reminder.

She waved her hand through the air in an almost comically dismissive gesture, brushing me off. “You go have fun, and we’ll see you tomorrow when you’ve risen from the dead.”

“Grandma?” Rose asked, her voice taking on the honeyed tone she used whenever she wanted something. Her big brown eyes widened as she looked up at her grandmother, the epitome of innocence and hope. I couldn’t help but grin at the picture they made.

“What is it, baby girl?” my mom asked, already softening under Rose’s gaze.

“Can we have spaghetti for dinner tonight?” Rose asked, blinking up at her with a hopeful expression that could melt even the coldest heart.

I almost laughed, knowing that whatever my mom had planned for dinner was now entirely irrelevant.

“Of course, we can,” my mom replied with a smile, brushing a hand gently over Rose’s hair.

Rose’s excited little squeal was the perfect punctuation to the moment, and with one last hug and kiss from both of them, they were out the door. The apartment suddenly felt quiet—too quiet—without their energy filling the space. I stood in the silence for a moment, letting the stillness settle over me. Now, there was nothing left to do but wait for Benjamin to arrive.

I wandered back into my bedroom, drawn again to the mirror. Standing in front of it, I studied my reflection with a critical eye, turning slightly to view myself from different angles. My body wasn’t what it had been a few years ago, back when every curve seemed deliberate, as if carefully sculpted to enhance my appeal. Back then, I’d been confident, comfortable in my skin.

But pregnancy and the demands of single motherhood had changed that. My thighs were thicker now, my arms softer and less toned. My stomach no longer lay flat but curved outward into a small pouch I’d never managed to shrink, its surface lined with stretch marks that mapped out the journey my body had taken. I trailed my fingers lightly over them, the silvered lines catching the soft light in the room, and for a moment, all I could feel was frustration.

But then I shook my head firmly. No.

This body—my body—had given me so much more than I’d ever expected. It had gifted me Rose, my bright and beautiful little girl, the center of my world. And it had its upgrades, too. My pregnancy had left me with fuller, more noticeable curves, including boobs that now strained against nearly every bra I owned. My hair, once fine and dull, was thicker and shinier than ever.

I looked back at my reflection, straightened my posture, and smiled. Benjamin had asked me out. Whatever insecurities I had about my body clearly weren’t something he noticed—or if he did, he didn’t care. And if he didn’t, then why should I?

I fluffed out my hair, letting the loose waves settle naturally across my shoulders, and gave it one last run-through with my fingers. The soft black dress hugged me in all the right places, its floral pattern adding just enough charm to make me feel elegant without trying too hard. I slid my feet into a pair of sandals, their comfortable fit perfect for whatever the evening might bring.

We were going to have a great time—just like my mom said. And if we didn’t? Well, that was okay too. But I couldn’t help but hope that the night would be filled with conversation, laughter, and the beginnings of something special. I smiled at the thought of luring Benjamin onto the dance floor later, imagining the awkward, endearing way he might move to the music.

The sudden chime of the doorbell pulled me from my thoughts. My heart immediately started racing, each beat pounding loudly in my chest. He’s here.

I took a steadying breath, my fingers briefly brushing against the doorknob before I turned it.

On the other side of the door stood the most handsome man I’d ever seen. Tall—so incredibly tall. I had to crane my neck to meet his eyes, which were just as vivid and blue as I remembered.

“Hi,” I said softly, my voice catching on the single syllable.

“Violet,” he greeted warmly, his eyes sweeping over me before settling on my face. His expression softened, and a slow smile spread across his lips. “You look amazing.”

Heat flooded my cheeks, and I smiled shyly. “Thank you. So do you.”

Taking a moment, I let myself really look at him. His white-and-green-striped button-up shirt, casually loose but stylish, gave him an effortlessly cool vibe. The short sleeves revealed strong, tanned forearms, and his black slacks struck the perfect balance between casual and formal. It was clear he’d put thought into his appearance, and the effort didn’t go unnoticed.

That was when I saw it—a bouquet of pink carnations in his hand, their soft petals vibrant and full of life.

“For you,” he said, holding them out to me with a smile that could light up any room.

“Thank you so much,” I said, unable to stop the smile that spread across my face as I took the flowers from him. I brought them to my nose, inhaling the sweet, fresh scent. “I love carnations,” I admitted, glancing up at him.

“Then I’ll have to send a thank-you note to Nellie at the flower store,” he said with a small chuckle. “She said everyone loves carnations, so I figured I couldn’t go wrong.”

“Nellie was absolutely right,” I replied, stepping aside to let him in. “Come on in. I just need to put these in some water.”