Page 13 of Make My Heart Malt

“Good thing I won’t ask.” Jake closes the cash register with a heavy thud. Then he and Lach stride toward the hallway, I’m sure to think of more dumb excuses for why they won’t be my date.

Nora approaches me from the other end of the bar. “So you decided to go to the wedding?”

“It’s not that I want to go, but Tony’s mom conned me into going. If I arrive dateless at my ex-boyfriend’s wedding, people will give me nothing but pity glances. Since I’ve known most of these people my whole life, I don’t want to be that person.” Arriving with a date at least gives the impression that I’m not a twenty-eight-year-old, single woman who’s done nothing with her life and that I’m not in the same place I was ten years ago. Even though I am. I huff out an exasperated breath.

She rests her hip against the cooler. “Where do you expect to find a date?”

“That’s a very good question, since my phone has produced nothing but duds and my two friends are jerks. The dating pool is severely lacking.”

“You could ask Trey to hook you up with one of the guys from SBL.”

I create a mental lineup of the guys who’ve been to Trey’s Single Bros Life meetings. Even though he’s no longer single he still holds meetings for a guys’ night. As each guy flashes in front of me, I don’t want to walkthrough the doors at my ex-boyfriend’s wedding with any of them on my arm. Miles may be the only acceptable one, but even then, I don’t get the vibe that he knows how to date. “Why isn’t there an app for dating?”

“There’s lots of apps, but are you willing to put out at the end?” Nora raises a questioning brow.

“No. Like an app to find a casual date for events like this. No hookups. No expectations. No strings attached kind of dates.”

Nora taps her chin. “You might be on to something.”

I rest my elbow on the bar top and slump my head in my hand. I’m going to a wedding where everyone has known me for years, and I’ve done absolutely nothing with my life. Might as well add a scarlet letterLto my dress for “loser.” My gaze drifts to Nora. Desperation laces my tone as I ask, “You have a lot of friends—can I borrow one for a night?”

“Correction. I’ve gone on a lot of dates. Some have certainly gone better than others, but I might know a few guys. What kind of date are you looking for? Someone to make the ex jealous or perhaps the ex-best friend?” She wiggles her eyebrows and I roll my eyes. “Okay. How about someone to intimidate the ex? Or someone the parents disapprove of? Even better, someone so sweet he gives you a toothache?”

I tap my chin, contemplating my choices as if I were picking food items off a drive-through menu. Jealous could work. I don’t really need to intimidate anyone, but I like the sweet guy who’ll show everyone I found a great catch. “Do you have someone who is sweet, but not overly sweet, and successful?”

She unlocks her phone and swipes her finger over the screen. “I can ask Brian. He’s super sweet, I think becausehe’s a mama’s boy, but he does own his own business. When’s the wedding?”

“December third.”

“That’s coming up quick. I’ll send him a text.”

My fingers drum nervously on the bar and my heart pounds as I anxiously await the answer. I might not have to go to this wedding alone. I do an internal happy dance. Hallelujah.

Her phone chimes with an incoming message and her lips press together. Disappointment etches her features as her gaze meets mine. “Brian’s off the market. He’s wifed up. I’m sorry.”

My heart plummets to my stomach. Cut the music. This dance party just got shut down. “That’s okay. Thanks for trying.”

“If I think of anyone else, I’ll let you know.”

I nod. I’d better get my scarlet letter ready.

SEVEN

THE MIDDLE FINGER

Garrett

Monday: The sun rays shimmer across the bright blue sky. The air is fresh and crisp. Most importantly, it's a great day to convince Dessa to talk to me. I can feel it deep in my bones. Today is my day. Upon entering Porter’s, I spot Dessa behind the bar. Her back is to me while Lach is on a step stool, writing on the menu board under Drink Special. The blue calligraphy reads “Ghost Catcher.” My body jolts to a stop as my chest tightens. A part of me wants to believe it’s a coincidence, but I doubt it. My confidence meter drops a fraction. I brush my palms on my jeans and will my feet to power forward.

At the bar, I find an empty barstool and take a seat as Lach and Dessa continue to bicker about the drink. A small smile flirts on my lips. She was never one to backdown, and I’m glad she hasn’t changed because that fiery spirit is one of the many things I adore about her.

The stool next to me scrapes along the linoleum floor as an older man rises to his feet. Dessa glances over her shoulder, her dark hair flowing around her as she says goodbye with a warm smile to the customer. When she spots me, her gaze narrows and her lips curl into a sneer. Her once playful demeanor instantly evaporates. Without saying a word, she stomps to the other end of the bar. She didn’t throw anything at me. I’ll chalk that up as a win.

Tuesday: As soon as I open the front door to Porter’s, all the noise and chatter floods onto the sidewalk. The place is wall-to-wall packed. Damn near every stool and table is full. I scan the entire bar, and Dessa is nowhere. I hang around for a few minutes longer hoping that she’s in the back or something, but she never appears. It must be her night off.

Wednesday: I’m determined to get her to talk to me. Hear me out. After that, if she wants to continue hating me, she can, but I’m not going down without swinging. Until then, I’ll try a new tactic. One that involves her favorite thing.

As I flip through the worn pages of my mom’s recipe book, a pang of guilt hits me. I’ve lost a lot of years with Dessa. All I can do is pray these cookies will be the perfect apology gift. Or at least a peace offering. She’s never been able to say no to my mom’s cookies. As kids, whenever Dessa came over, Mom would always have cookies waiting for us. For a while, I was convinced she was only friends with me because of the cookies.

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