44
Tess
“Uhhh no.”
I slammed my phone down.
“He didn’t like the picture?” Maeve asked, peering at my phone.
“He liked it too much,” I said, picking up my container of macaroni and cheese and shoveling some into my mouth. The Sparrow and Thyme was serving a five-cheese macaroni with cavatappi noodles and a delicious parmesan, bread crumb, and parsley topping. I was barely able to taste it as I spun out about the date.
“Look at you, going on a date with a billionaire!” Maeve poked me.
“I’m not going. I don’t date,” I said, scarfing down the rest of the pasta.
“Did he give a hint where he was taking you?” Holly asked as she came by with another plate of macaroni and cheese.
“You looked like you needed a top off.” She slid the plate in front of me.
I accepted it gratefully.
“You guys already have been on dates,” Maeve said, sliding my phone to Holly, who exclaimed, “Good lord!” when she saw the picture.
“I’m surprised that he wanted to wait until this evening,” Holly remarked.
“She’s got a perfect gentleman on her hands, or rather, she’s on his hand!” Maeve joked.
“He better do more than use his hands,” Holly said.
“Forget that. I can’t date him.”
“Then why’d you send him a topless photo?” Holly asked.
“Because I want to hook up with him, you know, enemies with benefits. Now I have to shave. I have to do my hair. I have to figure out what to wear. Oh my god, I don’t have anything to wear!” I wailed.
“We will help you pick something,” Holly said, starting to text on my phone. “First, we need to figure out where he’s taking you.”
“Maybe it’s a yacht!” Maeve said. “Or maybe he’s flying you to a secluded chalet.”
“I should just prod him into coming home early. We’ll do the deed, and I can order Chinese.”
“That’s not romantic,” Maeve protested.
“I don’t need romance,” I argued. “I have my romance novels for that. You know—” I drew squares in my mac ‘n’ cheese with my fork. “Compartmentalization.”
I took another bite of my pasta. “I hate dating. I hate everything about it.”
“Your mom wasn’t doing dating right,” Holly said, patting me on the hand.
“Really? Because she had a date with a new guy multiple times a week. She would date them for a few weeks then bring them over and be like this is your new dad. Until he would inevitably open a credit card in her or my name, pawn the TV, or move in just to sit on the couch, drinking beers all day because, for some reason, Mom thought that you could find marriageable men at the local honky-tonk bar,” I said, still furious. “I want no part in that.”
“But you have Beck, and he’s not going to be caught dead at a honky-tonk bar. This is a nice date.”
“You said that about Kaden,” I reminded Maeve, crossing my arms.
“Kaden was a miscalculation on my part,” she admitted. “But Beck is a billionaire.”
“And my boss.”
