“A billionaire? Here in this town? Let me guess …is that what the hero’s like in the book you’re currently reading?”
She shakes her head. “Not my current read, but one of my favorites.”
I shove the mat back onto the shelf along with the set of blocks I gave him but he never used. “Or maybe he’s just an ordinary guy who’s incredibly inconsiderate.”
“You should have given him your number when he had his phone out,” Ana says, completely ignoring me.
“You can’t tell me you don’t think he’s cute,” Marissa says.
“I need someone who’s not just good looking. They have to have a good personality, too.”
Marissa shoots me a sly grin, catching my words before I even realize what I’ve said.
I rush to correct myself. “That’sifI wanted a man. Which I don’t. Not at all.”
CHAPTER 7
CALLIE
It’s always dark when I drive to the health club, and today it’s still dark when I leave to go to Big Daddy’s, even though it’s only mid-morning. The whole region is under the cover of a solid mass of gray clouds, and big drops splatter my windshield as I make my way across town.
From behind the counter of the sandwich shop, I have a great view of the rain, which gradually gets heavier. There’s thunder and lightning for a while too, then things calm down, but the rain remains steady, settling in for the day.
The lunch rush is much lighter than usual, and business is slow after that. So slow, that I’m sent home right at the time we’d usually be busy with dinner orders.
I’m not excited about losing a couple of hours’ pay, but the weather is perfect for crawling under the covers, so I’m smiling when I exit the building, an umbrella handle cradled between my head and shoulder, my phone in hand as I respond to a text from Sadie asking for my opinion on bridesmaid gifts.
There’s a missed call notification from my mom, time-stamped only three minutes ago, and I congratulate myself on having missed it, since it buys me time on having to call her back. But then my phone vibrates with another incoming call from her, and I’m compelled to answer it, because as hyper as she’s been lately, it’s not like her to call twice within minutes, especially when she knows I’m at work.
I step back under the building’s awning to take the call. “Mom, what’s going on? Everything okay?”
“Callie, thank goodness I got ahold of you.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh, so many things. The bakery is threatening a delay, the photographer keeps adding costs onto the package, and the deejay’s been asking a million questions I can’t answer.”
“Okay …” None of these items have anything to do with me, so I’m confused about the emergency.
“Your sister and Adam are the ones who need to decide about the music, but for some reason, I’m the one getting all the calls and emails.”
From what Sadie told me, Mom wanted to be the primary contact person for everything, so I don’t understand why she’s complaining about this. Or again, what any of it has to do with me.
Realizing there’s no urgency to this call, I start toward my car, pulling my key fob from my bag while I juggle the phone and umbrella, grateful to thepitter-patterof the raindrops for drowning out some of what Mom is saying.
“…not to mention the calligrapher. It’s such horrible timing that Rick broke up with you before Sadie’s wedding.”
My eyes roll so far back in my head, it hurts. My sister knows most of what happened with Rick, but I couldn’t bear to tell my mom. She lectured me about being too young to be engaged, and at first, she didn’t like Rick, but he won her over, the fake bastard. Just like he won me over when we first met.
He charmed us both so thoroughly that I was blinded to his true nature. When we broke up, Mom was upset and assumed it had to be my fault.
I intended to set her straight, but it hurt too much at the time—it still does, if I’m being honest—and I don’t want to hear the “I told you so’s” about my poor judgment, if she would even believe me. The more time that passes, the more I just want to let the whole thing drop, and luckily, Sadie’s wedding has been a perfect distraction, keeping my mom from asking too many questions about my broken engagement. Until this pesky place card situation arose.
“Did you decide on who you’ll be bringing as your date yet, Callie? We’re going to incur rush charges if I don’t give the calligrapher a name right away.”
The damp, rainy air is cold, but my cheeks burn with irritation. When I reach my car, the door won’t open. I try again, and get the same results. Pulling the phone away, I listen for thebeeptriggered by the keyfob, but don’t hear anything.
Am I at the right car?
