Page 15 of Confessions of a Smutty Romance Author

“Next time it’ll be drinks.” He winked.

We followed him into the building toward the plushy seating area with a coffee machine, sodas, and even snacks.

“Help yourselves, ladies,” he said.

As soon as he walked away, Hen hit my side. “Keep it in your pants, woman!”

I bit my lip. “I can’t help it!”

“Well give some of that mojo to me,” she said.

I frowned. “Did that guy from the coffee shop not call you back?”

“Nope.” She grabbed a foam cup and pressed the button to dispense coffee. “I don’t know what happened. I gave him my card, and he said he’d call me sometime. It’s been a week and nothing.”

“Ugh.” I groaned. “That’s the worst.”

“Uh huh. My parents are going crazy, saying I’ll never get married or be happy. I wouldn’t be surprised if they put up a countdown—days left until Henrietta’s eggs go bad.”

I snorted. “You could just tell them you don’t need to worry about an expensive wedding or an even pricier divorce.”

“I’d rather get the divorce,” she said. “Then at least they’d be off my back for a little while.”

I laughed, taking a sip of my coffee. I couldn’t relate to Henrietta, but I felt for her. My mom had left when I was young, and I’d ran away from home at sixteen, so I didn’t exactly have blood relatives invested in me and my well-being. She and Birdie were as close as it got.

“Great news,” the hottie salesman said, coming back and jingling a few keys. “We have some good options to test drive.”

I clapped my hands together. “My hero.”

He laughed and said, “Come with me.”

Oh, how I wished I could.

* * *

I steppedout of the bathroom and walked to my living room, where Birdie and Hen were on the couch. Partially to drink some Cupcake wine before my dinner with Jonas’s family, mostly for moral support.

“What about this dress?” I asked, smoothing the skirt over my legs. “Does it scream ‘let me clean your blood’?”

Hen snorted, spitting her wine back in her glass. “I should know better than to drink around you.”

Birdie agreed, “It’s an acquired skill.”

“Come on, guys, tonight has to go well. Charlotte already scheduled a press conference for tomorrow afternoon, and all the major local outlets will be there. If I show up without Jonas, that’s it.”

Hen stood up from the couch, set her wine glass on the coffee table, and walked around me slowly. “The dress is great, but I’d grab a cardigan or something to go over it. Some old people are weird about bare shoulders.”

I raised my eyebrows, looking to Birdie for confirmation. Was shoulders really where they drew the line?

She nodded. “Especially if they’re more conservative.”

“Well, he’s an accountant, so... better go cover up myscandalousshoulders.” I walked back to my room, digging through my closet. I basically lived in tank tops and leggings during the summer, and leggings and sweaters during the winter, but I found something that went with my dress.

I knew I was being a brat, but I hated this whole situation. A woman shouldn’t have to believe in love to write about it. After all, men wrote about aliens shooting each other and we all knew that wasn’t real.

I put the cardigan over my shoulders and walked back out to the living room. Birdie covered her chest with her hands and said, “If my son wasn’t gay and seventeen, I’d marry him off to you.”

I laughed out loud. “Gee, thanks, Bird.”

---