Page 22 of Once Smitten, Twice Shy

“This ‘networking event,’ ” I remind her, “involved a lot of whiskey and weed, as I remember the story going.”

Mom lets out a primhmphand turns back to Eleanor’s cake, adjusting a unicorn. “That’s how it went in the seventies when you put a bunch of crunchy people together who were excited about sustainable land cultivation.” She spins around. “We’re getting off topic.”

I fold my arms across my chest, eyebrows arched. “Are we?”

“Oooh.” She stomps her foot. “Don’t be difficult.”

“I’m not trying to be. I’m just trying to tell you I don’t want a matchmaker.” I sigh, scrubbing my face. “Listen, I know you’re worried about me—”

She clasps my hand, a firm, steady squeeze. “Iamworried about you. I’ve accepted what you say you want in a partnership from marriage, that you don’t expect it to involve love. I respect that. I’d be hypocritical not to—you know that’s how your dad and I started out, too. As friends who had a mutually beneficial business interest and mutual interest in the bedroom, too—”

“Ma, please!” I grimace.

She rolls her eyes. “My point is, I’m not trying to push you into something you don’t want, Will. I’m trying to push you toward what you keep telling me you want but you don’t seem willing to reach for.”

“That’s because I’m here all the time, working!”

“So take a break and get out of here!” she half yells.

“I am!” I half yell back.

We stare at each other, our faces both flushed, chests rising and falling.

She tips her head. “You are?”

Well, it seems it wasn’t so much a matter of finding the right moment to tell her as the right moment finding me. Here goes.

A sigh leaves me. I rake my hands through my hair. “You know how I’m going to start making weekend runs to the city tomorrow?”

Mom’s eyes go wide. Her face lights up with hope. “Mm-hmm?”

“I found someone—”

“Ack!” she yelps.

“Notthesomeone.”

Mom deflates like a balloon. “Oh.”

Eleanor, my niece, bounds in from the dining room, rainbow dress swaying around her, wild strawberry-blond hair topped with a glittery paper crown. “ ’Scuse me, Nana. Is my cake ready?”

“Yes, sweetheart,” Mom says, smoothing my niece’s hair out of her face. “Uncle Will is going to bring it in right now. Then we’ll put the candles in it and sing!”

Ellie bounds out on a scream of excitement that makes me wince.

As soon as she leaves, Mom rounds on me. “So, who’s this person, then? What’s the plan? Tell me everything!”

“Ma.” I sigh. “It’s my business, okay? I just…wanted you to know what I was up to, so you can stop your worrying.”

“Just alittlebit of details?” Mom clasps her hands together and gives me big, sad puppy eyes.

I groan. “Ma, don’t—”

“Pleeeease, Will? Don’t leave your poor old ma in the dark.”

“Christ,” I mutter.

She swats me on the arm. “Language!” Then she goes back to the big, sad puppy act, hands clasped tight.

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