“Introducing you to his family at Thanksgiving, then showing up in a magazine with his new girlfriend two weeks later, right before Christmas, is like…nasty. Icky. Sleazy, smarmy—”
Holding up a hand, I cut Georgie off. “I get it. It’s yuck and I agree. He is yuck.”
“But Jake…”
Dylan never gets to finish because I cut my eyes her way and put a finger to my lips. “The first rule about dating club is you don’t talk about dating club.”
“Pfft,” Georgie makes a sound with her mouth as she gets up and calls Toto over to her. “You have to have a real date for a date to happen. This is more like crush club.”
“I like that. Crush Club—where single ladies can live in their heads crushing on the man they want and never get close. That way it stays a perfect relationship in their mind, full of chemistry and tension, none of the real stuff.”
“You need a therapist.” Dylan tosses Beck’s leash at me, which I sidestep while laughing. “But she’s got a point. Maybe you could just dip your toes in with a date while he’s here.”
“A date?”
Georgie’s eyes light up. “Yes! Oh my gosh, that’s brilliant. In fact, I think we should make it mandatory.”
“Great idea.” Dylan spins around to face Georgie and they high-five. She then turns back to me. “In fact, we’re going to break the mold here. You, Riley Richards, are going to ask HIM out on a date.”
There are dips in our tummies when we get nervous, like when you’re waiting for test results or being pulled over by the police when you know you weren’t speeding, then there are the kinds of dips you get when you jump from a plane or are maybedoing something that is, in your mind, equivalent to that action. This particular nervous dip is more like a flurry of delicate but chaotic movements in my stomach. Erratic motions causing a jumble of sensations that feel just shy of awful. “I have to do what?”
“Ask him out. It can be any kind of date you want, but put yourself out there. You were happy to sit back and just be in a ‘thing’ with Todd, but look where it got you.”
“Heartbreak,” Georgie answers.
“Exactly,” Dylan acknowledges. “You’ve always sat back and not taken control of your love life. There was the time you liked that guy in the police department and he wanted to date you, too. I think it was Tim?”
Cringing at the thought, I nod. “I remember.”
“He wanted to ask you out, but you were so aloof and nonchalant, he took it that you weren’t interested and he eventually moved on.”
“I wanted him to think I was a challenge?” I say, making a face because I’m not even sure why I acted like that. Sometimes, I feel stunted when it comes to love. Like I’ll never get it right, and obviously, my time with Tim was one of my not-so-finest moments.
“Well, your challenge is to ask this man out and get to know him. He obviously wants to get to know you if he almost kissed ya.” Dylan then looks at her watch. “And it’s almost one-thirty, Georgie. Am I dropping you back off at the bookshop?”
“Please,” she responds as we all gather our four-legged babies. “Am I keeping Becks tonight while you go to your parents’ house for the trial meal?”
“Yes, please and thank you.” I hand the leash over to Georgie. “I’ll pick him up after I’m done. Cross your fingers, ladies. I hope Mom is happy with what I’ve got planned.”
“I’m not even worried about her.” Dylan wags her finger at me as she walks toward her car. “I’m worried about you. You. Be open to possibility. You are a catch, and so what if he’s a hockey player? If he’s making you get excited about the idea of kissing someone, then I say go for it. Life is pretty rough these days, and if we get these little glimmers appearing to make us forget what a dumpster fire things can be, how amazing is that? It’s like dreaming, but you’re wide awake at the same time.”
“That’s also called a sleeping pill overdose,” Georgie jokes, nudging Dylan in the ribs. “Let’s go…and good luck tonight, Riley. I’ll see you after.”
Watching two of my best friends in the world walk away, I have to admit that I feel better after talking to them. Stronger. Empowered even. Now I need to tell that to my nerves, because the thought of asking Jake on a date makes me want to pee myself.
Standing beside my childhood dining room table, I’m sweating. It’s hot in the kitchen, it’s hot in the dining room, and my mom’s attitude has me hot under the collar. She barely approved of the appetizer, but thanks to my father, he convinced her it was a pass. And now she’s onto my wild mushroom and sage chicken with a creamy truffle sauce, I feel exposed.
She slowly puts the fork to her mouth, takes a bite, and chews. And chews.
And. Chews.
“Wow,” Dad says, his eyes gleaming as he looks at me. “That’s incredible, Riley.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“To be fair, your father also thought you were doing well when you painted the wall by your crib with your own poop when you were a baby.” My mother, her tone dry, gives him a look as the door to the kitchen swings open behind me.
“Poop?” Travis says, a grin playing on his lips as he enters the room, with one Jake December hot on his heels. “Did I hear the poop story being brought up again?”
