Chapter 2
When my friend Tyler from work said he had the perfect guy to set me up on a date with, I took his word for it. He’d known me for a couple of years now and had seen what kind of guys I typically go for looks and personality-wise, so I figured why the hell not. How bad could it be?
This guy was the epitome of self-obsessed, and I was pretty sure he could give Narcissus a run for his damn money.
He hadn’t stopped talking about himself from the moment I sat down.
We were an hour into the date, and he had yet to ask me a single question about myself because he was too busy droning on about how accomplished he was, everything he brought to the table that no one else could possibly top, and had even gone as far as touting his “incredible” bedroom skills.
Count your motherfucking days, Tyler.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I tried a few times to insert myself into his one-sided conversation to tell him this wasn’t going to work, but he talked over me every damn time.
I even tried to signal the waiter for the check to no avail.
My eye twitched as he continued with what I was sure was a very exaggerated story—if true at all—about an obsessed ex-girlfriend who couldn’t fathom life without him because he was just that amazing.
My patience was running thin.
When my phone chimed in my purse, I couldn’t have reached for it fast enough, thankful for the interruption regardless of who or what it was.
My eldest brother’s name flashed across the screen.
“I’m sorry, I need to take this.” I didn’t wait for what was going to be an obvious protest based on the look on his face before I answered. “Hey, Wyatt.”
“Brody and I need you to settle a debate,” he said without so much as a greeting; he was visiting my other older brother in Darlington for the weekend. “Did he or did he not cry when you made us watch The Notebook?”
“Oh my God, are you okay?” My voice was tinged with panic.
“Uh…yeah? I’m just trying to prove that our brother is a little bitch.”
“Okay, okay. Just calm down.” I stood from my chair. “I’ll be right there.”
“What—are you drunk?”
“It’s going to be okay. I’m leaving right now.”
“What the hell are you—wait, are you using me to get out of a date?”
“Stay right where you are. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” I held the phone away from my mouth. “I’m so sorry, I have to go. Family emergency.”
I didn’t wait for what was going to be the second obvious protest before I turned and hightailed my ass out of Bravo Lounge.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I stepped onto the sidewalk and started for my car.
“Mo?”
“Yeah, I’m here. And, yes, I used you to get out of what was arguably one of the worst dates I’ve ever been set up on in my life.”
“That’s kind of fucked up.”
“If you sat through what I just had to, you’d understand.” I unlocked my car and slid inside, shutting the door. “And as for your question and my family emergency, yes, he cried.”
“Yes! See, assmunch, I told you!”
“I did not cry! I had Dorito cheese in my eye!” Brody shouted in the background.
“Dorito cheese?” Wyatt laughed. “Really? That’s what you’re going with?”
I chuckled as I started my car. “You two are idiots.”
“Yeah, well, these two idiots just got you out of a bad date,” Wyatt shot back. “You’re welcome.”
“And it’s a good thing. Because if he got creepy, I wouldn’t have hesitated to come from Darlington just to kick his ass,” Brody added. And while he kept his tone playful, I knew he was serious.
I had two meddling, sometimes annoying, and overprotective big brothers who didn’t trust any guy I’d ever had the courage to bring around them, even if they were nothing more than friends. They claimed every guy had ulterior motives and couldn’t be trusted.
They’d gotten better over the years, more so since they settled down themselves. However, they still liked to remind me now and then that I was their baby sister, and there was no shortage of hell they’d put someone through if they hurt me.
It was unhinged yet endearing at times.
“What are Leah and Avery up to? Shouldn’t they be supervising you two?”
“They went out to watch some chick flick at the movies, which got us on the topic of The Notebook and Brody crying.”
“I wasn’t crying!”
“It’s okay to admit it, man,” Wyatt said. “It’s good you’re in touch with your feelings…and all that bullshit.”
I snorted. “Leave him alone. It’s not his fault you have the emotional range of a teaspoon.”
I heard Brody laugh in the background. “Yeah, well, enjoy your Friday night alone,” Wyatt teased.
“I will, thank you very much.”
My apartment building was nestled ten minutes from downtown in the suburban commuter belt of Bayport.
I walked inside, shut and locked the door behind me, and hung my purse on the hook before tossing my keys onto the kitchen counter.
It wasn’t a fancy condominium like you would find near the cove with rent that cost the same as my monthly salary, but I loved it.
It had two bedrooms, one of which I turned into an office for days I needed to work from home, a decent-sized kitchen, and a spacious living room with a small terrace that overlooked the pond with the fountain at the back of the property.
And because I had a good relationship with my landlord—and because of my line of work—he let me paint over the ugly-ass gray walls that had been there when I first moved in, letting me make the space my own.
Late September made for perfect nights outside, so after I changed into an oversized slouchy sweatshirt and a pair of leggings, I poured myself a glass of wine and went to sit on my terrace.
Enjoy your Friday night alone.
My brother’s words echoed in my head as I stared out at the lit-up fountain at the center of the pond.
It wasn’t as if it was my personal preference to be alone. I just seemed to have the worst dating luck in the history of the goddamn universe.
I’d always been independent and headstrong.
I didn’t need anyone special in my life to make it what I wanted.
But that didn’t mean I didn’t crave to have someone to share it with.
In the past, it never bothered me. I was never one to go out and actively search for love, always telling myself that it would find me when the time was right.
Over the last few years, however, it felt like the universe was just rubbing the fact that I was still single at twenty-eight in my face.
My brother Wyatt got married a couple of years ago to his college sweetheart Avery, and they were nauseatingly perfect together.
My boss and good friend Grace got married last year to the love of her life and a man who worshiped the ground she walked on.
My brother Brody recently got engaged to Leah, who he met at Wyatt’s wedding—she was the sister of one of the bridesmaids—and he looked at her as though she hung the moon.
I was constantly surrounded by people with these great love stories, the kinds you only read about in sappy romance novels. Hell, even my parents were high school sweethearts—they’d been together since the tenth grade and still acted like two kids in love every damn day.
And then there was me. Cursed to be forever single, it would seem.
I’d had relationships, but they never lasted.
My longest one was in college and ended just shy of a year together.
Sure, I had feelings, but I’d never been one who found being vulnerable and expressing those kinds of feelings easy.
But even in those relationships with those feelings, I never felt that spark you hear about.
I never felt that all-consuming passion, intense desire, or aching need to be with that person.
The most I got was a few butterfly flutters. And then their wings fell off, and they died. The end.
I was at the point where I’d come to believe that the epic love I grew up around, the kind I watched my brothers and my friends find, the kind my parents had…maybe it just wasn’t for me.
While I wasn’t actively searching for a love I was pretty sure didn’t exist, at least not for me, I was still a woman with needs.
I didn’t go home with just any guy at any given time, but there were nights when I’d lower my inhibitions and just try to let loose and have some fun.
But even those needs weren’t being met. I’d hit a wall.
I was in a sexual slump and had been for nearly five months now.
Hence, my annoyance with my brother throwing it in my face that I was alone on a Friday night.
At that point, I was painfully aware, and the last thing I needed was a reminder.