Page 31 of Book Boyfriends
“That’s right, True Blood,I’m not worried about you and small-town British Bake Off over there. You’re not all insta-lovey like that one.”He tips his head toward a scowling Lord James. “Four, if we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right to figure out which of these three is your perfect fit.”
Am I really agreeing to a literary version ofThe Bachelorette? Despite the anxiety that buzzes just below my skin’s surface, something pulls me on. All I keep thinking is about Doc saying that we first need a little luck in order to make something of it. Maybe these three men are that luck, and I just need to makesomething of it. Do what my brothers have been pushing me to do since Will: Give someone a chance.
“Alright,” I breathe.
CHAPTER EIGHT
IT WILL BE OKAY
Did I write my soulmate?The thought taunts me as I pack up what muffins the guys didn’t eat yesterday, before Jackson took them to his place, to take to my mom. With the crazy topsy-turvy spin my life took this weekend, all I want is to soak up some of Mom’s calming presence. She may be the practical parent, but she’s as warm and soothing as apple cinnamon tea.
“Muffin delivery,” I sing, holding up the plastic-wrapped plate and stepping fully into her apartment.
Seven years ago, Mom moved here. The senior community is more accessible than her house and offers her both independence and socialization. There are several book clubs, water aerobics, and a rather intense cornhole league that my mom dominates with Allen, her boyfriend who lives across the courtyard.
She chews her first bite, moaning quietly, then swallows and asks, “Did Hope make these?”
“No… Another friend.” I shift in the chair.
We sit at the small dining room table, a pot of green tea and the plate of muffins between us. Everyone points out how much I look like her with my large brown eyes, fair complexion, curvyfigure, and long dark hair. Strands of gray may wave through my mom’s now short hair, and wrinkles kiss the edges of her eyes, but it’s easy to see the mother/daughter resemblance.
The same people who talk about how much I look like my mother point out how I amnothinglike her. With a career in corporate finance —before she retired last year – she’s logic and data-oriented.
“A male friend?” She waggles her thin eyebrows.
“Yeah,” I let out a hard breath.
“Not second date material?” She picks up her teacup, assessment winking in her eyes.
“I don’t know.” I fiddle with the placemat’s lacy edge. “We haven’t gone on an actual first date. In fact…” Gnawing my lip, I mull over what exactly to tell her.
Normally, this would be a conversation with Hope, and the jury’s still out onwhenI’ll tell her. Let’s face it, I’ll tell my bestie about this. I can’t lie to her, but I need to wait. This situation is too stressful to put on her, especially with the doctor’s concern about her blood pressure.
She smiles. “But there’s someone else?”
“Two other potential guys, in fact.”
“I see you’ve entered yourwhy choose romanceera.” Her pink lips tip up into a teasing grin.
I snort out a laugh. “And you’re supposed to be the practical parent.”
“Having only one person meet all your needs is impractical.” She sips her tea.
“I don’t think I’m built for multiple boyfriends. One is hard enough.”
“Polyamory or monogamy—” she bats at the air with her hand “—as long as whoever you’re in a relationship with treats you well and doesn’t smoke.” Her nose scrunches. “No smokers, Georgia.”
I chuckle.
“I just don’t want you to put all your hope for happiness inarelationship.”
“Tell your sons that. They’re obsessed with my romantic viability.”
She shakes her head. “Your brothers just want to see you settled. They worry.”
“Do you worry?” I swallow thickly.
“I worry about all my children.”
