Page 61 of Bittersweet

That’sokay.

There’s someone else I need tocall.

Someone else I need to end things with before they get anyworse.

“Hello, Love household, Mariaspeaking.”

“Hey, Maria. It’s Romy. Is Mom around?” I ask, then hold my empty coffee cup to my lips in the hope I can steal any last minor bit of sustenance it may be able to giveme.

“One momentplease.”

Seconds later, the line clicks, and Mom’s voice comes through loud and clear. “Ah, my long-lost daughter. How arethings?”

“Long lost?” I ask, resting the cup back on the coffee table and relaxing into mylounge.

“Yes. You know it’s not a crime to keep in touch with your parents, Romy.” Mom sighs. A note of hope enters her voice. “Or have you been just so busy out on dates that you’ve not had time to pick up thephone?”

I take a deep breath, steel myself. “Actually, Mom, that’s what I’m ringing to talk to youabout.”

“You are?” I can practically hear champagne corks popping in her tone. “Wait, I’m going to get Beau. He’ll want to be in on this. Beau? Beau! Your favorite daughter is on thephone.”

“Mom . . .” I groan, but don’t argue. It’s probably a good thing that he hears thistoo.

“How’s my Romy girl?” Dad asks a few secondslater.

“Good,” I reply. “Actually, I’m the best I’ve been in a longwhile.”

“Tell me everything. His name, his age, where he lives . . . I want it all,” Mom says, and I can imagine her with paper and a pen, ready to takenotes.

“That’s just it. There is no special man in my life.” I stand and walk down the hall to the spare room, opening thedoor.

My wedding dress gleams. The morning sun shines in through the window, catching on the diamond belt. I still feel that pang in my chest when I look at it. It’s so beautiful. Soperfect.

So not meanymore.

“I’m letting go of getting married,” I say.Sorry, beautiful gown. Maybe oneday.

“What?” Momgasps.

“Not forever. I’m not saying I’ll never walk down the aisle, but before, I was fixated. Obsessed. It wasn’t healthy, and it made me try things with men I never would have let myself do in thepast.”

Silence stretches on the other end of theline.

I gulp, and go on. “It’s taken me a long time to realize this, but I’m actually pretty great. I have a fabulous best friend. I’m successful in my job. I live in my own place, and maybe I don’t have the husband and the two-point-five-kid American dream underway, but I’m happy. And I don’t need a man in the picture to completethat.”

A strange sound comes down the line. Is that—is Momcrying?

“Val, are you okay?” Dad asks, and I wonder if he’s in his office and she’s in the parlor, this big grand empty house separating them. “She said she didn’t need a man. That doesn’tmean—”

“I’m also not saying I’m open to lesbianism,” I expand, just in case there’s anyconfusion.

“Ah.” Dad doesn’t say anythingfurther.

“I’ve appreciated all your help when it comes to dating in the past”—slight lie, but doesn’t hurt to butter them up since I’ve clearly ruined Mom’s dreams—“but now I need to do things just for me. And that means no blind dates. No constant questions about my relationship status. And certainly no setting me up onTinder.”

“Got it,” Dadsays.

Mom mumbles something, but I can’t quite make it out. “Sorry, Mom? What did yousay?”