I drummed my fingers on the starched white tablecloth and glanced at the second wineglass waiting on the other side of the table, the deep red of the liquid inside catching the candlelight flickering between the glasses. Mine was empty. Hers was untouched.
This was supposed to have been the night I met my wife, hence the fancy restaurant. I’d had high hopes for meeting the bold, possibly insane woman who had responded to my ad. Instead, it was looking like the response had been some idiot’s idea of a prank, luring me out and standing me up.
Asshole.
With a sigh, I leaned back in my chair and caught the waiter’s eye, signaling for the bill. Thank God, I’d stopped at only ordering drinks and I hadn’t gone all out, asking for appetizers or even entrees as well.
While I waited, I drained the spare wine—herwine—and slipped a few crisp notes onto the tray once the waiter brought it over. I left him an extra generous tip in the hopes I wouldn’t become the laughingstock of his circle of friends later, once he got off work and told them about the poor loser who’d been left alone at a table that was nearly impossible to get at short notice.
Annoyed, frustrated, and starving, I stood up, weaved my way around the happy couples who hadn’t stood each other up, and walked out into the cool night. Instead of the gourmet meal I’d thought I would be having, I grabbed a meal from the burger joint on the corner, which, if I was being honest, suited me better anyway. With the cold creeping through my suit and the reality sinking in that I’d been played for a fool, it wasn’t long before my mood dropped to match the temperature.
The scent of fried heaven did its best to cheer me up, but I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d been asking for something like this to happen when I’d placed that ad. It had been an interesting idea at the time and it had appealed to my sense of adventure way more than endless dates with the women my mom wanted to set me up with.
It had never occurred to me that perhaps my sense of adventure was less reliable than common sense when it came to finding a wife. To make matters worse, my phone started ringing before I’d even taken my last bite and Sterling’s name lit up my screen.
“Don’t tell me,” I said as I picked up, speaking around a fry in my mouth. “Mom’s mad at me.”
“Mad? Try homicidal,” my brother drawled. “You skipped family dinner without so much as a text. She’s been rantingabout common decency and the decline of society because of food wastage for the last thirty minutes.”
I winced. Our weekly family dinners werenotoptional. Missing one was only allowable when we had an airtight excuse, like an emergency, life-saving surgery, or being stuck on the other side of the world due to a severe blizzard.
I’d been hoping to walk in next week with good news and a fiancée in tow, convinced that would make Mom forget all about my transgression. Instead, I was sitting alone downtown with ketchup on my tie.
“Tell her I had a good reason and not to put a hit out on me. I’ll be there next week.”
“Yeah, I’m not doing that,” he said, his tone easy and light in a way it had never been before he’d met Laney. “Tell her yourself, little brother. I have, however, already convinced her not to send the hounds after you. It turns out that she’s not oblivious to the fact that having you in the hospital means you’ll miss more family dinners. Though, she’s acting likeyou’vehadhershot through the heart, so be prepared to grovel.”
“Got it,” I said, wrapping up what little had remained of my meal and standing up, my appetite suddenly gone. “Jewelry or perfume?”
“Both. I’d also include a hard-drawn apology card and prepare a heartfelt speech about the importance of family and how much you appreciate all the sacrifices she’s made for us. Maybe in poem form.”
I groaned. “Is it really that bad?”
“It’spromise to take her on a mother-and-son spa weekendbad. Sorry, Cal. You should’ve texted, man. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.”
I groaned. “Don’t get all wise on me now that you’re gonna be a dad.”
“Don’t take that tone with me, young man,” he said with a laugh.
We said our goodbyes and hung up. I dumped my greasy paper bag in the trash on my way out. Feeling lower than I had in a while, but determined to save my Friday night, I shot a text to Gage. He replied from a bar not far away, which felt like the first good luck of the night.
He was halfway through a pint when I walked in and slid onto the stool beside him at the dimly lit bar. “You’ll never guess who stood me up tonight.”
“Everyone who’s ever read that newspaper?” he guessed, holding his hand up to get the bartender’s attention.
“Cute, but no,” I muttered. I asked the bartender for a whiskey and Gage got another beer.
I took a sip of my drink and enjoyed the heat in my throat. “It turns out that my big date was actually a big joke. Some jackass jerking me around. No show. No apology. Just me and my ego slowly bleeding out in public.” I took a bigger drink. “What a world.”
Gage glanced at me and grinned. “That’s what you get for trying to find a wife in the classifieds section. This isn’t the stone age, caveman. There are apps that have been specifically developed for this kind of thing in the modern world. They’re on these nifty little devices called phones. There are pictures, likes, dislikes, and all kinds of filters. It’s revolutionary technology, man.”
I drained the whiskey and shook my head. “I’m not swiping my way into a marriage. But Iamstarting to wonder if the ad was the best idea, though.”
“It wasn’t.” He laughed.
I sighed. “It would’ve been a cool story, but I’m thinking of changing tactics.”
“To what, putting your message in a bottle and throwing it in the ocean? Let Neptune decide your fate.”
