“When are we going to meet him, Winnie?” Mom reaches out to wipe cheese off my face. “I guess I’ll tell Mrs. Miller that we don’t need to set up a date for our kids after all.”
“What? No. I’m not dating him.”
“So you do want to date Mrs. Miller’s son? He’s a little off.” Dad makes a face.
“Fuck the Millers’ son,” Gran demands. “Why aren’t you with this billionaire?”
“Because, Gran, he—” He’s too attractive, he’s too much, I will never trust that he actually finds me attractive. “Because Fitz stole my shop out from under me.”
“He’s just doing it because he likes you.” Mom comes at me with a brush.
“No, that’s what got Kathy into that nonsense. Winnie has worked hard to build her business. Some man can’t just come in, dick swinging around, and take it from her,” Gran rails. “You’d sell your own daughter down the river just to lick up the cold jizz of the patriarchy. Where’s your solidarity?”
“Excuse me for wanting my daughter to actually find a man to marry so that my sister can’t keep rubbing all her grandchildren in my face,” Mom shrieks.
“No one pulls that shit on my granddaughter.”
“It’s fine, Gran. I have several other options.”
“Let’s see their pictures.” Gran holds out a hand.
“Of the new locations for the Brew & Browse?” I frown.
Mom smooths my forehead. “Honestly, Winnie.”
“The men. Who are your other husband prospects?” Gran begs. “I need to have good-looking grandchildren.”
“Oh! Let’s do a fall wedding.” Mom’s happy.
“Yes!” Kathy’s eyes light up. “We need to book a venue. Ooh, do you think Weddings in the City would do it since you’re marrying a billionaire?”
“Date one of the men on your phone who’s extra violent. Send him after Fitz. Why, I oughta go after him myself.” Gran shadowboxes.
“No, just leave him alone. Please. We’re moving on. There is no wedding. There is no dating. We’re focused on Kathy, who…” I check my phone. “Has a date!”
10
FITZ
Is she… sexting with someone online? Who the fuck does she think she is? And who in the death wish is texting my girl?
I turn on the music as I head toward Winnie’s bungalow. It’s been twenty-four hours since I saw her in that dress. Twenty-four hours of slowly but surely losing my mind.
The noise and the teeth-grinding annoyance of her online talking to another man gives me a headache.
I turn it off.
Part of me wishes I could just curl up next to her. I just want a real home like in the movies, not like how I grew up, where people have nice stuff. Posters on the walls, a sister with fairy lights and cozy curtains who has one of those clear plastic phones with all the colored wires you can see inside.
But now instead of my perfect Winnie just for me, she’s sending lewd messages to a man she’s never met on the internet.
“She better not be planning on meeting with him.” I stew in the shadows as I watch her and her family spill out of the house.
“I’m not eating at no vegan place,” her grandmother complains. “A friend of mine has stopped eating dairy, and it turned her into a psychopath. I’m going to have to quit the knitting club at this rate.”
“We are eating Italian, Mom. If you don’t like it, you can just have wine,” Winnie tells her.
“Ooh! Are we going to Olive Garden?” her sister asks happily.
