Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 84952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
“Thank you. Who will be your plus-one?”
“Nobody.”
“Larissa …”
I slow down for a puppy crossing the street. It takes its sweet time, its little ears flopping around as it chases a butterfly. I use the vision to take a long, deep breath and try to recenter myself.
“Men have evolved with the understanding built into their seedy, hedonistic little genes that they don’t need to be decent human beings to earn the affections of a woman,” I say. “And I. Am. Sick. Of. It. I’ll date again when I find someone who isn’t a dickhead.”
Or an athlete.
Once the puppy is safely across the street and into the arms of its human, I pull into Aunt Siggy’s driveway. I sit in my car, engine running, and stare mindlessly at Siggy’s bright red front door.
“Should I just arrange for a date for you?” Mom asks. “Because you are not coming alone. We paid for a plus-one, and it’ll look ridiculous for you to be sitting next to an empty plate.”
“God forbid,” I mutter.
“Okay. I have a solution. There’s a new third baseman on the Seahawks—"
“Mom. No.”
“He’s cute. He’s from an excellent family. He’s single. I ran into him in the offices last week, and he was sweet as pie. I’ve already planted a little seed about you—”
“I have to go,” I cut in, my limit hit for arguing with her.
"And he seemed to be interested. Of course, it didn’t hurt that there’s a picture of you in Jack’s office and—”
“I’m at Siggy’s. Can we resume this later? Or not, but I bet you’ll make me.”
She groans. “I suppose. But by later, I mean tonight. If you don’t call me, I’ll assume you want me to make arrangements.”
“I’m sure you will.”
“I love you, Larissa.”
“Love you, too. Bye, Mom.”
I hang up and turn off the engine.
By this age, you wouldn’t think I would still be having these conversations with my mother. I haven’t lived at home since I was nineteen. But has that stopped her from trying to wield her influence in my life? Hardly.
Still, I’m thankful for her. Does she drive me crazy? Most every day. But what would I do without her?
Once I gather my things, I head to the front door. After a knock that’s unnecessary but makes me feel courteous, I enter the house.
A grand staircase greets me. The light from a heavy crystal chandelier makes it appear even more stunning. The dark and regal wood could tell a million stories if it could talk.
“Is that you, Riss?” Siggy calls.
“Yup.”
“I’m in the kitchen.”
I make my way down a long hallway with family pictures hanging on both sides and enter a bright kitchen. The cabinets are cream, and the floors a dark wood like the stairs. Windows flood the kitchen in sunlight, and it’s my happiest place on earth.
My aunt turns around to face me. She’s dressed in a black pair of pants and a white blouse. A large turquoise pendant hangs between her breasts. She’s gorgeous with her long, dark hair and bright golden eyes.
“Bad morning?” she asks, her smile faltering.
I nod.
“Sit down and let me pour you a drink. Then we can talk about it while you help me decide between snowflakes or an icicles beverage bar.”
I take a seat at her kitchen table.
“You are an aesthetic guru. I know you don’t need my help,” I tell her.
She leans into the refrigerator and pops out with two bottles in her hands. “Mimosas or tea?”
I raise a brow. It’s returned with a grin as Siggy slips the tea back inside the appliance and replaces it with a bottle of orange juice.
“I respect your opinion. You have an excellent eye,” she says as she pours our drinks. “I’m also surrounded by testosterone all day, and I need a little estrogen to balance it all out.”
My heart warms with the compliment—especially coming from her.
“So what’s happening?” she asks, handing me one of the drinks.
“Mom.”
“Oh.” She makes a face as she sits across from me. “That explains the look on your face.”
“She’s on my butt about not having a date for the Seahawks thing tomorrow night. And she’s irritated I don’t even want to go, but I think she should have the sense to ask me in the first place.”
Siggy takes a long sip of her mimosa. “She just wants you to be happy, Riss. Everything she does is motivated by that. She can’t comprehend how you don’t see that.”
“I know. That’s why I can’t get mad at her. But none of the world she lives in makes me happy—especially the having a date thing. I’m not into dating anymore, Aunt Siggy.” I reconsider. “Well, maybe if he’s super cute and not my type. My type of men don’t work for me. Such a shame.”
She laughs. “I can’t imagine doing it now. It’s terrible out there. I hear stories from my sons, and it makes me …” She shakes her head. “It makes me sick and nervous and, quite frankly, terrified.”