“Ethan.” I don’t know why my sister sounds so exasperated with me. She’s been dealing with my shit for the twenty nine years I’ve been alive. None of this should be a shock to her.
“Oh, right. I forgot. Logic has no place in this conversation.” Turning to my desk, I trap the phone between my ear and my shoulder and type something into my computer. Iamat work, and while the admin can be lenient about calls as long as we’re not ignoring patrons, I still have plenty to do for the gala.
“You know Mom was happiest in the years Dad was still with us and we were kids. The big happy family, the trips, the game nights, the family dinners. She just wants that for both of us.”
“I’m aware. And nothing says I won’t have that. But I sure as shit won’t find it at one of her ambush set up parties.”
“That’s exaggerating a little,” she mumbles through the phone.
I remain silent and type a little louder.
“Okay, maybe it’s not an exaggeration. But it’s been a while since you’ve had a date.”
“And how would you know that exactly?” It’s not wrong but how the fuck does she know?
“Call it sisterly intuition.”
“I think maybe I’d prefer to call it stalking.” Her scoff has me rolling my eyes.
“We live in a small town, brother dearest. Word gets around. Or maybe in this casedoesn’t.”
“I knew I should have moved further away,” I grumble the words but don’t mean them. Much. Living close to my family has its benefits and can be nice. Or certain occasions. This situation, is not one of them. “Besides, I have a date scheduled later this month.”
There’s silence where I expected screaming and I have to look at the phone to make sure we didn’t disconnect.
“Jenn?”
“Sorry, it shocked me. Especially because…later this month? I know it’s been about a decade since I dated but aren’t those usually planned, I don’t know, a fewdaysin advance? Not weeks?” My sister has been deliriously happy with her husband for twelve years. It wasn’t until she decided she was done having kids six years ago that Mom started with the set up parties.
“It’s for a work thing.”
“Oh. Well that hardly counts then! You’re not choosing to find someone to bring out. You probablyhaveto bring a date. Right?”
My molars grind together as I tamp down my frustration. “Does it really matter? It’s a date nonetheless. Be sure to pass the message to Mom, along with my need to decline her offer to set up mixer number twelve. And as much as I’d justloveto continue this conversation, I have to get back to work.”
I click the end button before she even has a chance to respond. I’ll get some sort of scathing text letter about my lack of respect and morals and a whole bunch of other things for hanging up on her. But I just couldn’t keep that conversation going a second longer.
An ‘ow’ pulls my attention and the tenseness oozes out of my muscles. A smirk pulls up the corner of my lips as my gaze finds Biannca, rubbing the side of her head absentmindedly while she puts some more books away.
Yes, this date might be for work, but it’s with someone important, and has been a long time coming.
Chapter 5
Biannca
Why are all fancy gowns sleeveless? Or the ones that have sleeves make me look like I belong in the Victorian era?
Someone as clumsy as me is littered with random bruises. But how does one explain that to a stranger that you’re potentially trying to impress? Or at the very least, not seem utterly ridiculous in front of.
With a heavy sigh, I pull off yet another dress that simply won’t work. “Lo, are you sure I have to go this fancy?”
I can practically hear her eye roll through the changing room door. “The gala is black tie, is it not?”
“It is.” Why do I sound like a kid who got caught feeding the dog from the dinner table?
“Then yes, you have to go this fancy. Here—” she shoves the door open and holds a long sparkly black dress through the opening. “Try this one.”
Hanging my head, I take yet another dress. There’s barely even room on the hooks for everything I’ve tried on. Logan is happy to pass the dresses my way but she won’t take the nos out until I either find “the one” or she gets to see me and agree with my rejection. Which she hasn’t yet.
