Page 17 of Desperate Crimes
She’s great.
No, more than great.
A literal force of nature. Two kids. A husband who still looks at her like he won the fucking lottery. And ODI, the company she runs with him that just hit Forbes’ Fastest Growing list.
She knows who she is. She always has.
Me?
I’m still figuring that part out.
“I just worry sometimes,” my mother says, interrupting my reverie, gentle but persistent. “You haven’t brought a boy home since Richard, and that was what? Two years ago?”
“Richard?” I snort. “Oh my God. What made you think of him?”
I nearly choke on my drink, mostly because I’m not about to explain that Richard was never really a boyfriend.
More like an experiment.
A box I tried to check off.
Try dating a nice guy from a nice family who wants nice (but boring) things.
Yeah, it was no surprise Richard wasn’t right for me.
Not really. Well, more like not at all.
I just wanted to see what would happen if I walked into the family Fourth of July BBQ with a man on my arm.
Okay, fine, I wanted to see if he noticed.
My secret crush.
The only man who has ever made my pulse race and my heart pound.
The one I think about when I use those special toys, the ones I bought myself for my twenty-first birthday.
But he didn’t notice.
I wasted my time. My hopes. My secret dreams.
As for Richard?
Pfbbbt.
I didn’t want him. Like at all.
Not to pretend to date.
Not to give my virginity to.
Not in any way that mattered.
The two of us fizzled before we ever even had a chance to burn.
“Mom, Richard was years ago. How did you even remember his name?”
“But there’s been no one since, so I thought?—”
