Lisa got behind the wheel of her car, wondering what in the world to say to a fourteen-year-old girl. Then she realized she dealt with women like Sierra all the time. Maybe a decade or two older, but in the exact same position.
“So, tell me what kind of dress you’re dreaming about.” She put the car in reverse and backed out of Cal’s driveway. Her giddiness was a little ridiculous, but she didn’t care. She’d been thinking about having a serious conversation with Cal about his daughter and how she might come between them.
Maybe now, she wouldn’t have to.
“I think I look good in blue,” Sierra said. “Or black. Something a little darker.”
“So no pink or yellow or like, light blue.”
“Ew, no.” Sierra shook her head, and Lisa thought she’d actually look good in something pink, because her hai
