Page 2 of You've Got Male

Despite what people thought, she always felt one step away from completely losing her own shit. Even more so now, as she watched the self-involved lovebirds saunter away with their orders, hand-in-hand, as if they hadn’t just left her in yet another bucket of poop.

She remembered the moment when she realized that she was in it alone. When she realized that she couldn’t be all things to all people. No matter how hard she tried, she was going to fail at something: parenting, her career, her personal life—or maybe all three. She knew why people talked about the sandwich generation. After Mateo walked out, she was forced to move back to her childhood home, sleep in her childhood bed, and raise her child on her own.

But three generations under one roof meant three generations of opinions. From arguing about what show to stream, to how to modernize the coffee house, to who was the cuter Hemsworth brother—it was a constant challenge for Evie to meet the needs of her mom and her daughter, and she often felt like the referee of the family.

But then there was also three generations of love all shoved into one house. Evie loved her neighbors, and she loved her childhood home, but lately it was as if they were living on top of each other. Lately, it felt as if Evie was using her parents as a crutch—and she was ready to walk on her own.

If you’d asked her friends, they’d say Evie slayed at life. Unknown to them, Evie’s life was one Xanax away from falling apart.

…

“Don’t let that man take up one more cell of energy,” Moira, her mother, said while placing a fresh batch of toasty bagel balls on the tray. “And don’t you dare use him as an excuse to stop dating. You’ve made so much progress lately.”

“I’ve gone out on two dates.” Evie placed each ball in its own paper liner. “One wanted to measure my neck for a collar and the other didn’t believe in deodorant. That’s what happens when you swipe right on life. It’s time to admit that I have the worst picker ever. All the Granger women do. Look at you and Dad.” She pointed to the mustached man behind the counter wearing a pink flamingo shirt, pressed white skinny jeans that were cuffed at the ankle, and a pair of Coach slip-on sneakers with the classic logo in rainbow colors.

“Yes, look at us. I was married to my best friend for sixteen years. Had a beautiful daughter and a beautiful life.”

“Mom, when I was twelve, he announced to the world that he was gay.” The world announced back that they already knew. Well, the world minus Moira and Evie. In a blink, Moira’s life went full circle, going from best friend to lovers and back to best friends.

Her mom gave a casual shrug. “So he likes men? So do I. In all shapes, sizes, and ages it seems. In fact, last night I met up with this personal trainer from Boulder who can crush a melon with his—”

“Remember when you used to say, ‘I’m not your friend, I’m your mother’? Well, I need you to be my mother right now.”

“You’re right.” Moira took Evie’s hand. “And this mother notices how much her daughter always takes care of everyone and everything else, leaving no time for herself. It’s time for you to take care of you. And I want you to know that you can count on me to be there for you.”

It took a moment for Evie to form a response through the emotion clogging her throat. “Thanks, Mom.”

With a motherly pat to the cheek, Moira walked behind the bar top to help with the never-ending line. Grinder wasn’t just a local coffee shop; it was an institution in the Denver area. People had been coming there for thirty years.

This place meant everything to her dad, and her dad meant everything to her, which was why she plastered on a smile for the next customer and said, “Toasty bagel ball?”

Her gaze locked on to a pair of familiar blue eyes and a strange unfurling happened in her stomach. Warm and tingly and pheromone induced. It was as surprising as it was unwanted.

“Toasty balls?” her neighbor, car-pool buddy, almost-one-night stand, and arch nemesis, who always managed to swarm when there was chum in the waters of her life, said. “I didn’t know that was a service you provided.”

“Are you offering yourself up for scientific study?” she asked.

“I like my balls just the way they are.” A challenging look entered Jonah’s eyes and more parts, inappropriate parts, tingled, igniting a heat that zigged then zagged, colliding in the dead center of her chest. A clear sign that her anger was starting to rise. A usual occurrence when in his presence.

He was dressed in a faded University of Colorado tee, which had a coffee stain on the hem, day-old sweats, and a five o’clock shadow from summers past. Like Evie, his life was a complete shit show. Unlike Evie, he didn’t try to hide it, instead wearing it loud and proud.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

He picked up a bagel ball and popped it into his mouth. “I heard that you were throwing a shindig tomorrow night and I was wondering where my invite was.”

With a beaming smile, Evie dug through her apron pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Consider yourself Cinderellaed.”

He eyeballed the letter suspiciously before accepting it. She couldn’t help the victorious grin that overtook her when heopened it. He met her gaze, then smiled.

“Congratulations! I didn’t know you were going back to school.”

“What?” Panic hit like a sledgehammer. She grabbed it back, glanced at the acceptance letter to CU Denver’s business school, then hastily shoved it back in her apron. “Whoops. Wrong one.” A big whoops, since that letter was a secret—even from her family. Especially from her family. She’d had so many decisions made for her, she was taking her life back. If she went back to school it would be because she decided to, not because her family guilted her into it. This was her life, her decision. Just like writing out this invite for her neighbor. “Here.”

She handed him the proper letter. He took it, and she remained silent as he read it and knew when he got to the good part.

“What the hell is this?” He held up the letter and jabbed a finger at the bolded paragraph in the middle of the missive.

“That is a summons for you to appear in front of the Beautification Board to discuss the current state of your yard.”

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