1
Sadie
Life is like a biscuit: perfectly fine on its own but so much better when smothered in sausage gravy. Yes, we Southerners love our food. But the perfect Southern woman was not supposed to like sausage. No, not that kind, the other kind—the kind that was attached to a perfect six-foot, four-inch hunk of man. Nope, not supposed to be interested. The perfect Southern woman was supposed to wait nicely for the debonair gentleman to ask her to go steady with him.
I had tried to be the flawless Southern woman that my grandmother always wanted me to be. I had attended her alma mater, a small, cozy all-women's college, where I studied American literature and history. I had even hosted various fundraisers for charity in my spare time. All I needed was the husband. Except, surprise! I hadn’t met any men, eligible or otherwise, at an all-women’s college.
Maybe Granny had meant to give me the heads-up on how not to be a twenty-four-year-old virgin, but she never had the chance. My father and his gold-digging girlfriend had spent years funneling Granny's money, including my college tuition, to their doomsday polygamist cult, with its charismatic cult leader, and the stress put her in an early grave. By the time I graduated (late of course; thanks, double major), I was broke, jobless, and a big freaking virgin.
Emphasis on the “big.” I looked down at the mostly eaten seafood platter in front of me at Bread and Fire, a popular restaurant in the quaint New England town of Harrogate. It was meant for two people. Of course I was alone—not that I was supposed to be.
In an effort to solve my money problem, I had moved up to Harrogate several months before to live with my college roommate, Erika. By day I worked at low-paying temp jobs, but all my free time was spent trying to find a husband, or at least a halfway-decent guy to lose my virginity to. I had met Parker Svensson on an edgy dating site for “interesting people.” The fee had made my credit card scream for mercy, but it had been worth it because Parker and I had hit it off from the first message.
He was smart and funny and looked amazing in his photographs. He was like Chris Evans—not the version with his overgrown beard, though that had a sexy, scruffy appeal. No, he was Chris Evans as Captain America—blond hair, cheekbones that magnified his intense eyes, a straight nose that drew a hard line down to kissable lips, a body with broad shoulders, and a very fine ass that looked great in a suit andau natural. Not that he sent me a frontal shot or anything—though there was one raunchy pose on a very expensive-looking sports car. We texted all day and night. Then he asked me out on a date. All my problems would be solved! I, Sadie Henderson, would no longer be a virgin!
In hindsight, I had celebrated too soon. It was obvious as I sat staring at the mostly eaten seafood platter that Parker had stood me up.
“Do you want me to box up the rest of that?” the waitress asked sympathetically as she came by. I shrugged, refusing to let the humiliation show on my face.Maybe he’s late?Should I keep waiting?The restaurant probably wanted the table though.
“I guess a box would be good.” Finishing off my third cocktail, I texted Parker again through the dating app.
Sadie:I'm leaving. Sorry this didn't work out. Maybe another time…
Nothing. Just as it had been the other twenty times I had texted him.
The waitress handed me the boxed-up food and the bill. I winced at the total but handed over my almost-maxed-out credit card. After scribbling my signature on the receipt, I headed back home, texting Erika on my way and eating the rest of the seafood platter from the takeout box as I walked slowly down Main Street.
Sadie:Leaving. Date is a bust. Still a virgin. Will probably die this way.
Erika:I'm still in Manhattan. I thought you might need the apartment for, you know.
Sadie:*sigh* Maybe something came up with one of Parker’s little brothers.
Erika:Or he's a dick. I work with Svenssons at Greyson Hotel Group. Not often, but enough to know they are total dicks.
Sadie:He was so nice! What happened?
A train blared. As much as I was a Southern girl at heart and was not appreciative of the New England chill, Harrogate was a cool town. It was like Stars Hollow fromGilmore Girls, complete with quirky characters, holiday festivals, and a train that drove right down the middle of Main Street. The engine said “Svensson PharmaTech” on the side in bright white letters.
As the short train rattled past, it revealed a fancy restaurant across the street with a large picture window. Framed in my view was Parker fucking Svensson. He was with another woman. She was tall and lithe and had perfectly straight hair. She probably didn't eat a whole seafood platter by herself either, I noted silently, looking down at the empty takeout container.
I was sick, then I was angry.How dare he treat me like that?
The cocktails and fried seafood churned in my stomach. The sinking feeling that I had completely wasted my life smashed me in the face. All the unfairness—of my father stealing my tuition money, of my own stupidity for not getting my life together and then trusting some male named Parker—was too much. I marched across the street, car horns honking, and swung open the heavy door to the restaurant.
“Do you have a reservation?” the hostess asked when she saw me.
“I do, in fact,” I said too loudly and gestured to Parker's table. Guess those cocktails had been stronger than I thought. “Him.”
Ignoring the hostess’s confused protests, I pushed past her and stomped over to Parker’s table. I grabbed the edge of the round table and heaved, sending the plates of steak and bowls of soup tumbling into Parker’s lap.
“What the hell?” he yelled. “Are you insane? Kaitlyn, call the police.”
“The police? This is your fault!” I shrieked. “You don't get to stand me up so that you can go on a date with someone else!”
Parker, confused and angry, stood up, pieces of lettuce raining on the floor around him. “I've never seen you before in my life.”
“Lies!” I yelled, pointing a finger at him accusingly.
