Page 31 of Wood Riddance
“Do you think maybe you just date terrible guys?” Parker reclined on the chaise lounge, lifting her sunglasses and giving me a pointed look.
We’d congregated on my back patio, which looked out at my garden. Thursday night girls’ night had become our tradition. My sisters-in-law had insisted, and I had felt too guilty to decline. Alice usually hosted, and Hazel, Parker, and I joined, with my niece Goldie making occasional appearances.
But tonight, Alice had some important principal business to attend to, so it was Parker, her best friend Liv, Hazel, and me. For the first time, I’d invited all of them over. Parker was here all the time, but I still struggled with having people in my space. Nothing like a night with the girls to force me out of my comfort zone.
At first, I fought it. Even when Alice did all the hosting. It was too much hassle, and I didn’t want to be forced into bonding. I was a loner, always had been, and I’d always been good with that. I had my crew. We were all close and worked well together.
But then Parker dragged me into this. And I had to admit, it wasn’t terrible.
There was always wine, and Alice was a fantastic cook. Goldie, my eight-year-old niece, often tagged along, and she was hilarious. The four of us were all so different, but it felt good to have girlfriends. Our conversations were random and off the wall at times, but being with them got me out of my own head.
“Probably.” My track record was shit. I wouldn’t argue with that. “But it’s not like there are a lot of single guys in Lovewell, or even the surrounding areas. And I did try for a while.”
I handed Parker a glass of chilled rosé from the bottle I’d pulled out of the wine fridge—hey, this was my house. I could have whatever I wanted.
“You did. No one would ever accuse you of not putting yourself out there,” Hazel said, raising her glass of sparkling water in my direction. “You have more bad date stamina than any woman I’ve ever met.”
Growing up, I idolized my father. What I failed to notice, though, was that my mother was the glue that held our family together.
And he loved her. Damn. I’d never once doubted that my parents loved each other. And that example, of a love that lasted and grew and evolved, had stuck with me.
That was why I hadn’t completely given up on finding a partner. Because I knew what was possible.
But the road to finding that person had been bumpy since the beginning.
Boys hadn’t shown much interest in me in high school, and I’d always had to make the first move.
I was “intimidating,” according to many. In reality, I believed it had more to do with not being the ideal type of woman.
Perkyandcuteandsweetwere words that had never been used to describe me. I had sharp edges and an even sharper tongue. I was taller and stronger than most guys. And while that didn’t bother me in the least, I’d found that it narrowed my options in the dating pool dramatically.
I approached dating like I did most things. With unmatched intensity and more than a little insanity. It was no secret that women like me needed to work harder at this than others.
At a young age, I learned that I had to take what I could get. Girls like me—tall, strong, opinionated—were never chosen first unless sports were involved. And while that truth stung even today, this tough reality was a hell of a lot better than changing myself for a guy. I’d accepted long ago that I was an acquired taste, and I dated accordingly. But lately, I had grown tired of putting in all the effort only to be disappointed over and over again. So I’d put myself on an indefinite dating hiatus.
“How long has it been?” Liv asked, twirling a lock of red hair. She was from Portland, and she looked like some kind of forest nymph. Long red hair, massive blue eyes, and that kind of artsy style that no normal woman could ever pull off.
Strangely enough, she wrote grisly crime thrillers for a living, and I’d enjoyed every one of them immensely. Since Parker had moved here permanently, Liv had become a frequent visitor to our town. Most everyone here had read her books by now, and it was not uncommon to sit in the diner and hear them debating theories about the identity of the murderer in each one.
“A while.” I reclined in the chair, surveying the flowers in my garden. It was almost July, and things were finally perking up. We were about a month away from full garden glory, but I was feeling pretty proud of myself at the moment. “I needed a break.” It had been almost a year. Not that they needed to know that.
“Jake?” Hazel asked.
“Yeah. He got back with his ex.” I did not mention that he did so on the day of my brother Henri’s wedding, when he was scheduled to be my date and meet my entire family.
“What about the other guy? The dude who was into Latin?”
“He was a Latin professor,” I corrected, taking in the oranges and purples of the beginnings of a beautiful sunset. “And don’t ask.”
“Why not? It was so promising. He was hot, and he was super into you.”
I sat up and sighed. “On our second date. He told me that he is a cuckold.”
Liv sputtered and choked on her wine. Beside her, Parker patted her back, but she never took her attention off me.
Hazel looked thoroughly confused. “What is that?”
God, she was so innocent sometimes.
