“I’m sorry,” she said.
“I can’t wait to come home.”
“I can’t wait for you tobehome.”
I sighed and closed my daily planner that I had been referring to for the questions I wrote down to ask her. I rubbed my eyes.
“Are you even going to ask about the new waitstaff?”
“Did I not ask?”
“You didn’t.”
“How are they?” She ended up hiring both the people I’d sent in for interviews.
“Amazing. Thanks for vetting the list first.”
“I didn’t vet the list,” I said.
“I know you did, Sutton.”
I laughed. “Fine, but I’m sure you would’ve picked the best from the pool as well.”
“You’re not sure, that’s why you vetted the list. But that’s okay, it made my life easier, so thank you.”
“You’re welcome. And Presley? She’s happy with the additions?”
She grumbled something under her breath, then said, “She’s fine. Now stop trying to make my life easier and work on makingyourlife easier.”
“And fun,” I said.
She laughed like that was a joke. “Talk to you later. Chef just got here and I need to go over some things with him.” With those words, the line went dead.
I wondered what she was going over with Chef and if I needed to be part of whatever conversation was about to happen. No, she could handle it. I trusted her.
Next to my closed planner on my desk was the scratch-off that Dr. Franklin had given me to plan a date. I had meant to give it to Tara. My hand ran over the page. “I can have fun,” I muttered while searching the drawers for something to scratch off the first box with. There was nothing. I pushed myself, rolling chair and all, away from the desk, then stood.
In the kitchen, I dug through the junk drawer.
“What are you doing?” Mom asked, muting the television.
“I’m looking for a penny or a dime or any coin, really.” I freed one from beneath a pen and a spool of black thread and held it in the air. “Aha!”
“What do you need a penny for?” she asked.
“To prove I’m fun,” I said and headed back to my room.
Maybe I wasn’t fun. Because I wasn’t sure I could do what the first revealed box asked me to do. And it wasn’t even that hard.Send a suggestive text to your partner requesting a date.
I knew this was a date sheet. I knew it was going to give me date prompts. I didn’t know I’d have to send sexy texts.
I could do this, I told myself. I’d been telling myself that since I scratched the box that morning. In between helping my mom and doing household chores, I was hyping myself up. It wasn’t that I’d never sent a sext. Just a few weeks ago I’d sent that text about the meat to Nate, and he’d responded byasking if I was requesting a dick pic. I’d said I would take one of those, too, if he was offering.
“That was fun,” I said. Sure, it happened after the breakup and I was being more snarky than anything, knowing he wouldn’t actually send a dick pic, but… shit, I’d never sent a sext.
How does one even ask someone on a date in a suggestive manner? “Hey, baby, you want the possibility of seeing me naked tonight after you feed me?” I sucked in my lips at the laugh that wanted to escape. Elijah would be good at suggestive texts. Dr. Franklin should’ve given the sheet to Elijah. I was sure that was the exact reason she’d only given one to me.
The pot I was washing in the kitchen slipped through my soapy fingers and clattered into the sink. I cringed and turned off the water to listen carefully. I had just helped my mom into bed for an afternoon nap thirty minutes ago. All was quiet from the back of the house. I turned the water back on.
