Page 33 of The Fix-Up

“Oh, you mean when he broke into my house?”

“Technically, his house too,” Ali said.

I glowered at her. “I don’t like him. And he didn’t seem to like me much either.”

“Oh, please.” Ali reached over, rather bravely I might add, to steal a nacho from Mae’s plate. “Everyone likes you.”

Mae slapped her hand. “Mine. Get your own, lady.”

“Wow.” Ali leaned back. Probably in fear. “Is this the pregnancy talking?”

Mae hunched over her plate like a pit bull on yard duty. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about the crazed look in your eye right now. That kid is sucking all the nice out of you.”

“Then what’s your excuse?” She dug out a chip and shoved it in her mouth.

“Okay, now,” Ali said. “We have been friends,best friends, forever, but don’t think I won’t fill the library with balloons one night to annoy you.”

“That’s the best you got?”

“No,” Ali said, all wide-eyed innocence. “That would be the beginning.”

Mae sneered. “I dare you.”

Ali crossed her arms and glared at her best friend. Mae was usually the voice of reason around here. She was cool-headed, calm. As the town librarian, she’d had to deal with budget cutsand the last mayor, Peter Stone, who’d also been her ex, on top of her mother’s stroke, a deadbeat dad and, well, Iris. She could handle anything with poise.

But in the last couple of weeks, she’d gotten a little…emotional. Not just the crying, but the feral-ness of a woman who was so done being pregnant. I understood. I remembered that feeling of never being comfortable, always tired and hungry, and not sure if I needed a good cry or to kick someone’s ass.

“Did I tell you about my last date?” I said, hoping to change the topic before it came to blows.

Mae shook her head and went back to her nachos. “How was it?”

“Terrible.” I picked at the fringe on the throw pillow. “He left in the middle of it to fly across the country and profess his love to his ex-girlfriend.”

The nacho fell out of Mae’s hand as she stared at me. “That’s bad.”

“Cammie said he cried,” Ali said. Being the mayor, she got all the good gossip practically hand-delivered to her.

“That’s because my man picker is broken.” I fell sideways, my head landing on the arm of the couch. “Maybe I’m broken. Maybe that’s it.”

“Ah, don’t say that.” Ali tugged on my foot. “You’ve just had a run of bad luck.”

“That’s lasted three years? Yeah, that must be it.” I sat up slowly. “I’ve been thinking maybe I should take a break from dating. I’ve got Oliver and the café and now this whole house mess to sort out. I’m starting to think there aren’t any more good guys left.”

“They’re still out there,” Ali said. “Just last year you met that nice postman. What was his name?”

“Ah, Kyle.” I sighed. “Turns out his wife had a problem with us dating.”

“Oh, now I remember.” Ali slumped in her seat. “You can’t just give up.”

“Yes, I can. I can just not go on dates anymore. It’s that easy.” Saying it out loud was almost a relief. Dating was exhausting, grueling work. I could work three weeks straight at the café and not be as tired as I was after a horrible date. “Maybe I’m not meant to have someone.”

Mae placed a hand on my arm. “Why would you think that? You’re wonderful. Any guy would be lucky if you chose him.”

“I don’t know if that’s true.” Because the truth was that I was kind of a mess, even on a good day.

“I know it’s true.” Mae turned to Ali. “We need a plan.”

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