The fourteen-year-old version of me wanted to argue with this because how could she possibly know me before I knew myself? The thirty-four-year-old version knew how to pick battles.
"What do you propose I do with my dramatic potato peel self, Mother?"
She took a sip of her water, then another. Oh, this was going to be good. No other reason to stall for an entire minute. I glanced at the clock. I hadn't paid attention to the day's spa service itinerary, but I was certain we were due to start with some seaweed masks or pumpkin baths or salt rubs by now.
But I wouldn't put it past my mother to book an hour in the Zen room specifically for this conversation.
"I want you to let me set you up on some online dating sites," she said. "I'll pick out the photos and write the little descriptions, and I'll help you screen the matches." She tipped her head to the side. "I'll screen all of them if you'd like, but I figured you'd want a hand in this."
"Oh, I'll help," I replied. "I don't want to subject you to all those penises because there are going to be penises, Mom."
"Pfft." She waved a hand at me. "I've seen plenty of penises, thank you. I married a man, and I raised two sons. For years, I couldn't go a day without seeing at least two penises.Years, Magnolia. I doubt you remember it but your brothers would just whip those things out. It didn't matter if we were at the park or in the middle of the grocery store or Sunday mass." She made an exasperated sound, shook her head. "Penises are nothing new to me."
I pressed my fingertips to my eyelids. "I—oh, god—I don't want to put all of these things in the same category. Brother penis doesn't live in the same world as date penis. Separate and distinct categories, please."
"Whatever you want," she replied.
"Then—wait." I peered at her. "You want my New Year's resolution to be giving you control of my online dating profiles? That sounds like a project for you and a punishment for me."
"It is not a punishment," she argued. "But no, that is not the resolution I have in mind for you." She ran the belt through her fingers again. "This year, I want you to commit to finding someone who sees you the way I do—beautiful, smart, amazing."
"And compostable," I added.
"Compost is magic, Mag." A thin frown pulled her lips down. "Promise me you'll try."
"You just want to plan a wedding and start shopping for baby baptism gowns."
I didn’t want to admit it to her or even myself but after attending twenty-two weddings over the past six years, I’d socked away enough plans of my own. I knew I wanted a beachy summer wedding on the southeast coast of Massachusetts and I had some ideas about ornamental cabbage centerpieces.
She lifted her shoulders. "That's a fringe benefit," she admitted. "Your happiness is the goal."
"And I'm finding happiness in a man? That's what you're telling me?"
Another shrug. "The happiness won't come from a man."
"No?" I challenged. "Then where is it coming from in this experiment?"
My mother grinned. It was the same grin she used when insisting she knew us as fetuses. She was right about that, about us. Ash's moods were volatile, Linden couldn't be more introverted if he tried, and I had a dramatic moment or two.
"You'll find out, my girl. You'll know."
I wished I shared my mother's confidence.
Chapter One
My date was pickinghis teeth with a steak knife.
It wasn't a quick thing either. No in, out, done. He was halfway to giving himself a root canal right here in the middle of the restaurant.
The best part was when he struck gold and dug out a bit of food. He'd give it a thorough inspection and then pop it back in his mouth. Maybe I was wrong about it being the best part. None of this could qualify as the best of anything. I didn't know how it could qualify as the best when it seemed like increasingly dark shades of awful. The dating world knew no connection to logic. This had to be the worst part.
He'd ordered the largest steak on the menu and requested it "blue and mooing." There was something about the purposeful wink he'd shot in my direction as he'd said those words, as if his capacity for red meat was somehow indicative of his penis size.
But I couldn't get past the dental exam.
I watched, my fingers frozen around the stem of my wineglass, while he engaged in this ritual for full minutes at a time.
My first instinct was to drown the flames of this date with Pinot Grigio, but I was oddly entranced by this guy's knife-swallowing act. I didn't want to be caught unaware when he sliced off a chunk of his tongue.
