Page 47 of Waiting for Gilbert

A sigh leaks out before I stop it.

“Show me the goods.” Diana slips into the chair next to me.

I have the impulse to close all my tabs and snap the laptop shut.

Here goes.

Using one finger, I nudge the corner of the laptop ever so slowly until it’s facing her.

A high bun captures her dirty-blond hair and tendrils fall around her face. Even exhausted, she’s stunning. Eyes track and her lips silently move as she skims the page. Every few seconds an eye-brow twitches. Once, she glances at me, and her expression says, “Really?”

I tap my fingers on the underside of the table and wait for her to finish snooping.

She closes the screen and rests her hands on it. She smiles softly.

My palms sweat. “What?”

“You need to delete this.”

“What! Why? I worked really hard setting that up. I picked every word of my bio with care. Compelling but discreet. Cautious not to give away too much but still appearing welcoming and open.” My speech bounces off her shields. “An online dating profile is essentially an ad to market yourself, and I’m… well, extremely clickable.”

She shakes her head.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“This girl sounds interesting, Cordy. But she isn’t you.” She reaches toward me, but I’m on my feet in a moment pacing the side of her dining room. I don’t want to look at her pity.

20

CORDELIA

JUDY GARLAND—HAVE YOURSELF A MERRY LITTLE CHRISTMAS

Nathan enters the side door, leather bag slung across his chest and black Oxfords wet with snow. “Hey, Babe. Is there food? Please, tell me there’s food.” He wipes his shoes on the entry rug. “I’m minutes from selling my birthright for a soup.” Nathan looks up then lifts his chin to acknowledge me at the table. “Hey, Squirt.”

“Hey, Spreadsheet.” I was seventeen when Nathan and I first met. Although I don’t have anything against my brother-in-law anymore, our first meeting involved a prolonged argument over who knew Diana best—super mature, I know—and neither of us have offered more than polite animosity since.

“That’s a new one.” He winks at Diana. “Tough day at the office?”

“Whenever I’m feeling down, I think how grateful I am that I’m not inyouroffice.” I quirk my lips to the side, unsure if that was too far even as he ignores me and approaches my sister.

He shrugs out of his coat and kisses Diana. It’s not a polite peck on the cheek if you know what I mean.Gag.

“Meeting ran late.” He trails a finger down the side of her neck, and I look away. That touch is more heated than their kiss. “But I’m taking a half-day tomorrow. Can you have them dressed for sledding by one-thirty?”

Her tired smile is all hearts and bubbles. “They’ll love that.”

“What did I interrupt?” He jerks his thumb toward my laptop.

“Nope. Nothing. Nada.” I shake my head while grabbing my laptop, but Nathan is quick as a viper and he snatches it from my grasp. I screech and slap his arm. “So help me, Nathan. It doesn’t concern you.”

There’s a blast of fire in my tone that leaves all fun and games behind. His concerned gaze snaps to mine, and he slowly sets it down. Hands in the air, eyebrows low, Nathan steps away from the table.

I suck in my lip and stalk into the living room to escape Nathan’s wide-eyed stare. While I forcefully shake my hands to expel the overflow of anguish that hits me from nowhere, I pace twice in front of the large TV. I am not okay and I don’t know why. I want to bite something and I’m so embarrassed for attacking Nathan.

Writing conferences, publishing contracts, photography awards—I’ve made a good living since college with words and art. Partly because my work is unique and bright and compelling, and partly because I’m a machine that never slows down. Throw a thousand darts and a few of them are bound to hit home.

The past decade I’ve attended friends’ weddings all over the country with various plus-ones at my side. Can you believe a sickening number of those couples have already divorced? For two years I was trapped in what turned out to be a dead-end relationship while working overtime to advance my career.

---