Page 64 of No More Bad Boys
Larson pulls her in to his chest, stroking the back of her head and murmuring in her ear.
Perfect. She gets to havebothguys—the one she plans to marry and the one who wishes it was him instead.
And what about me? What do I get?
A night in my parents’ guest room for starters.
* * *
“Do you really think those sites work?” asks Momma as she studies the laptop screen over my shoulder.
I’ve been home for twenty-four hours, and already she’s driving me insane. She’s picked on my clothes, my hair, and now my chosen method of dating.
Honestly, I could care less about finding someone new to date—the thought turns my stomach—but everyone says it’s the best way to move on.
And Ihaveto move on.
Moping around thinking of Blake every waking moment isn’t doing my sanity any good.
“Lots of people find partners this way.”
I shrug and click on another picture of yet another smiling face. This one’s decent-looking, and he fits my criteria.
“And if I want to find a logical person to date, then basing my choice on a standardized collection of data rather than some random meeting at a bar or coffee shop makes perfect sense.”
“I guess so. Do they have financial information in there?” Momma asks. Of course.
I ignore her question and read through the guy’s profile then close it with a groan. He likes romantic walks on the beach.Ugh.
The next guy’s profile is much more promising. No mushy stuff. Reasonably cute picture.
He’s a twenty-one-year-old programmer at a video game company and says he lives near the Tech campus, like me.
Perfect.
I grit my teeth, take a deep breath, and click the “Let’s meet” button. I know he’ll do the same thing I’ve just done before responding—read my profile and check out my picture.
I posted one that Kenley took of me on Easter. As usual I’m wearing no makeup, but the lighting’s good and my eyes really show up.
At the thought of Kenley, my gut rolls. Partially with disgust but also… I miss her. She’s been the steadiest fixture in my life since I was born, and I’ve never gone more than a day without talking to her.
The rift between us feels as deep and wide as the Grand Canyon, and I don’t know how we’ll ever close it.
She’s called repeatedly, both my cell and Momma and Daddy’s phone, but I’m not ready to talk to her. She even came by the condo, but Momma’s big mouth came in handy for once.
She let it slip that my sister was on her way, and I went for alongrun, making sure not to come back until I saw her car was no longer in the driveway.
As if reading my mind, Momma says, “I sure wish you girls would work things out. I can’t remember you ever fighting like this. I don’t like to see you giving her the silent treatment.”
“Well, I didn’t like alotof things you said and did over the years, so now we’re even I guess,” I snap.
She looks like I’ve slapped her. Kenley and I were both raised to respect our parents and not to talk back. She was always better at it than me, but even so, I’ve rarely raised my voice to my mother or lashed out at her.
Normally, I stuff my anger down deep and employ humor to deflect her painful comments. Apparently my sense of humor is out of order tonight.
“Is this about something I’ve done, Cadence? Because I know I made mistakes. I’ve told you I’m sorry. Kenley says you feel like that boy Blake wanted her more than he wants you—that I made you feel like you weren’t as good as her, and it still bothers you.”
Before meeting Blake, I would have denied that. Now I can’t. But I’m not even going to bother getting into it with Momma. It’ssuchold news.
