Page 7 of Ten Rules for Faking It
“You want a cupcake now or later?” her mom asked, finishing up her banana in record time.
Everly gave her the over-the-fake-eyeglasses look, making her mom laugh. Finishing her healthy food, then grabbing a couple of plates and some forks, they took their treats to the built-in nook in the corner of the kitchen.
“I’m going to give you some motherly advice,” her mom said after a few minutes of quiet.
“Mom. I don’t need advice. I just need today to be over.” She let the soft, delicious chocolate sit on her tongue a moment. She should have started her day like this instead of surprising her ex.At least you didn’t waste much time on him.It’d been a step forward for her, though, the idea of letting Simon be part of a day she dreaded.It’s over. Stop dwelling.
“Sweetie.” Her mom covered her hand with her own, doing the full head-to-the-side tilt. That, combined with the sad eyes, was her “You don’t know what you need” look. Nowthatwould be a long list: her mother’s many looks.
“Really, I’m good. I dated a loser. This is what happens when you do that.” There’d be less chance of traveling the same path once she had her rules.
“Did you stuff his balls down his throat?”
Everly nearly choked on her bite of cake. Her eyes watered. “Uh, no. That would have involved touching them, and I really didn’t want to do that.”
She frowned. “Did you yell? Tell him what you thought of him?”
Everly shook her head.That would have meant sticking around for longer.
Her mom leaned in closer. “Did you call him names? Swear? Slam a door? Wreck something of his?”
She swallowed, wished for some water to magically appear, and shook her head again. “No. No. No. And no. I did drop the coffee and bagels I’d brought us all over the floor and didn’t stick around to clean it up.”
Widening her eyes in mock horror, her mom pressed a hand to her chest. “Wow. Remind me never to cross you.”
She didn’t have either of her parents’ tempers or flair for the dramatic. In her opinion, the less conflict the better. They loved hard, laughed hard, and fought hard. Everly usually just watched from the sidelines.
With a small smile, Everly slid out of the bench seat and went to grab a couple of bottles of water from the fridge. She passed one to her mom and opened hers to take a long drink.
“I’m good. You don’t need to worry.”
“Of course we worry. We love you.”
Some months it waswe,some it wasyour father and I.“Well, don’t. And I love you, too.”
“You know, I know what I’m talking about. You should take me more seriously. I have a client who just got married. She’s twenty-three, and when I tell her secrets to a good marriage? She laps it up like I’m the patron saint of weddings or something. I have been married for twenty-five years.”
The volcano of emotion that had gone dormant throughout the day started to rumble. This woman didn’t have Everly’sfirst-hand knowledge that her parents weren’t the gurus of marriage. Normally, she’d bite her tongue, let her mother wax poetic about relationships but she didn’t have the energy to hold back. She couldn’t fight this, too. Looking down at her cake, she counted to ten in her head. When she looked up, she said, “You keep your office furnished with a pullout sofa for when you’re mad at Dad. You dive headfirst into a new hobby every time you’re fighting. You break up and make up frequently. No offense, but I don’t want that kind of relationship. Or a pile of handmade crafts I’d have to store.” These rules were really perfect. No odd hobbies, because rule number two saidno hoarding—animal or otherwise.
Her mom’s eyes didn’t flash with hurt or anger. No. Jessica Dean could take a punch and keep going. It was one of the things that made it hard to be mad at her—she made no apologies for being exactly who she was. She also didn’t bullshit, so she’d be okay with Everly stating the facts.
Her mom laughed, pressed her index finger to the crumbs on her plate. “You do have a point.Despitethat, I still know a few things about making a man happy. Besides, it never hurts to have a spare couch. There are many uses for that. Like when your father is being a sweetheart and bringing me lunch.”
Everly plugged her ears again but couldn’t help the laughter bubbling from her chest. “Stop it. I think I need to worry about me being happy before someone else. But thanks.”
Her mom yanked on the crook of one of her elbows, joining in on the laughter. “Anytime, sweetie. I know your dad and I are a little wonky and maybe not the best role models when it comes to love, but everyone is different. You just need to find what works for you.”
After her mom left, Everly picked up the notebook again, looked through the rules. She wanted ten. A nice, even number. Proof that she was taking this decade seriously so she wouldn’t hitforty and think about all the things she wished she’d done differently.Right. Because you have plans to use that decade for gratitude.
She had a solid rule seven: Find what makes you truly happy. And hang on to it.
[3]
The headache Chris Jansen woke up with came back with attitude and a Thor-size hammer. He would have dropped his head to his desk if he wasn’t working so hard to keep himself together. The look on Everly’s face kept flashing in his brain like a neon sign. How one woman could be so gorgeous and unaware of it was beyond him. He wasn’t supposed to think of her like that. Chris put considerable time and effort intonotthinking about Everly Dean, but just seeing her smile opened Pandora’s box in his chest. In a small town over an hour outside of LA, he had a simple task: boost station ratings, get the place in shape, move on to bigger andmuchbetter things. Things he’d actually gone to school for, things hewantedto do.
That was the short-term plan when he’d agreed to take the job as 96.2 SUN station manager.
“Agreedsuggests you had a choice,” he muttered.
