Sure, there are no blood-related boys in our family—just generations of women giving birth to more women and being tossed aside by the shitty men who swore they loved us. We all say it’s the reason why we never have boy babies, and frankly, I think we all prefer it that way.
But when my mom’s sister, Aunt Devina, remarried for the third time, her new husband came with a son from a previous marriage which was our first introduction to a male who wasn’t a total dick.
Enter Memphis. I was sixteen and he was eleven when he joined our family. He’s five years younger than me, but somehow, he became my best friend for those few years where we lived close. He’s also one of the few men I’ve been able to tolerate consistently in my life.
“It’s my cousin through marriage,” I clarify. “Not blood.”
Her brows knit tighter. “Not on your dickhead ex-husband’s side, right?”
“Would I do that to you?” I deadpan, making her laugh.
“Fine. What’s he like?”
“He’s twenty-five—”
She cuts me off with a hand in the air, her lips forming a thin line as she pushes away from the bar. “No.”
“Come on, seriously, he’s the sweetest, most alpha, cinnamon-roll guy you’ll ever meet!”
“Absolutely not.”
I push out my bottom lip. “You’re judging him based on his age only. That’s not fair.”
“I can’t do younger than me. Even the same age is risky.”
“He’s only five years younger, and he acts much older,” I argue.
She shakes her head and grabs a rag, swiping it across the bar top even though it’s already spotless. She’s physically incapable of standing still at work. Honestly, I doubt she stands still anywhere. I picture her at home the same way. Always moving. Folding something. Reorganizing a drawer. Glancing at her watch to check her step count.
I’d bet she burns ten thousand calories a day on sheer momentum alone.
“Aly. Don’t,” she says firmly, ending the conversation before it can go any further.
I wiggle my brows at her. “Please?”
She sighs. “You’re ridiculous. But then I need to find someone for you too.”
“Dick only,” I say putting up my hand as she rolls her eyes.
“Fine.”
“A blind date that knows I just want their dick?”
She nods. “Yes. I have someone for that. It’s my cousin.”
“Look at us, swapping cousins. Cousin swappers,” I tease her.
“I’m warning you, though. This guy is as good as they come.”
“Don’t worry about me falling in love. You know I’m firmly in myI hate menphase right now. I’m just looking for a quick hookup. A distraction.”
She laughs, shaking her head. “He’s divorced too.”
“Ooh, damaged like me. Fun.” I wiggle my brows.
She stops laughing and shakes her head again, more firmly this time. “Don’t call him that.” Her tone softens, and it’s obviousshe really cares about her cousin, so I better not fuck this up.
“Sorry. I won’t,” I say quickly, holding up my hands in mock surrender. “But please make sure he understands this is just a whole benefits thing. I don’t want him falling in love with me either.”
