Willow was scheming. I could feel it.
I hoped she was scheming for us to get back together. But if that was the case, why wouldn’t she just text me back or return one of the many calls I attempted that never went through since she still had me blocked?
My phone chimed, and I nearly jumped out of my skin, hoping it was Willow.
It wasn’t.
Mom
Heading back from lunch. Need anything before I get home?
Me
Is that where you’ve been? I thought I was suddenly an empty nester.
Mom
I’m still waiting for the day I’m an empty nester. You’re cramping my style.
Me
How was lunch?
Mom
Lovely. Willow took me to this great Greek place. I should have gotten some takeout to bring back to you. It was divine.
My mother went out to lunch with Willow . . .
Mymother went out to lunch with my sort-of ex-girlfriend.
My mother. Who I had never even introduced Willow to. But apparently, they were best friends who went to lunch while I was heartbrokenandhungry.
Me
Traitor.
I hunched over in my desk chair and massaged my temples. I had been working from the house for most of the morning, going through coaching sessions and batching social mediacontent for the month. The cup of coffee I had this morning was long gone. I needed calories, and lots of them.
I fired off a text to Willow, asking her about lunch with my mother, then pushed away from the desk and stood when the text immediately bounced back because I was still fucking blocked.
I stomped into the kitchen and reached for the fridge when the doorbell rang. The hangry ogre inside of me was going to rip the head off of whoever dared get between me and lunch.
The doorbell rang again.
“I’m coming. I’m coming,” I grumbled, yanking the front door open with a little more force than necessary.
A slightly terrified delivery man stood on the other side, holding a brown paper bag and paper coffee cup. “Ryan Ford?”
“That’s me.”
“I’ve got your order. Sorry if it’s cold. I told the lady who called it in that we don’t usually deliver out here. It’s too far from the Village. But she begged, paid double, and tipped well.” He stuffed it into my hands. “Anyway. Take it easy.”
What the . . .
I peered into the bag and found eight pierogies nestled neatly inside.
Wait . . . Did he say that he drove all the way to Queens from the Village?
