34. Meg
34
MEG
I made the short walk back to the beauty salon in a daze, cornering Mimi as she was packing up. “Well, that was one hundred bucks down the toilet. That woman is a total rip-off.”
Mimi shot me a knowing glance. “But worth it for the truth, no? Are you going to tell me what she said?
“No way do I share the atrocities that lady threw in my face. It’s like she ate a bowl of fortune cookies this morning, with the stupid things coming out of her mouth. It was cat-this, cat-that, and let me not get started on the cookies-and-donuts bull.”
Patting my back, Mimi dragged me to one of the beauty stations. “Come sit down, I’ll put your hair up. Let’s show off your beautiful face.”
I slipped into the chair and stared at the image of the woman in the mirror. The one experiencing a nerve-wracking episode of the vapors. Someone bring me a fainting couch. And please, make it quick.
Mimi met my panicky eyes in the mirror and smiled serenely. “This is me telling you that you didn’t waste your money. She’s really good. You want to know something? She gave me Joshua’s initials before I ever met him.”
This was way up there with things I didn’t want to know . “Please tell me she didn’t.”
“And she told me he was into vintage cars. He drives that old Dodge Charger, as you know.”
This was my argument to win. “See, I would’ve been more impressed if she was more specific and said muscle car.”
“Then she said he wasn’t very tall, but he was well-built and that he had beach sand color hair,” Mimi continued, relentless in her quest. “And get this, she mentioned that he had heterochromia, which sealed the deal for me because Josh has one green eye and one blue eye. On sunny days it’s more pronounced.”
Nausea settled into the pit of my stomach, and I screamed hysterically into my fist.
“Geez, calm down, Meg. She really did a number on you. What is it she said that has you so freaked out?”
“I’m not freaked out.”
“You’re practically hyperventilating.”
“Tell me this…did she also give you the whole fire, passion, and love-till-you-die spiel?”
Mimi pulled no punches as she combed my hair into a messy bun, but I was far beyond feeling any kind of physical pain.
“Not at all,” Mimi continued. “She said I’d have the relationship I wanted. Stable, dependable, and loving. Not major ups and downs, just mutual respect, same likes and dislikes, and that Josh was my soulmate. Which he is.”
Cringe invaded me suddenly and violently. “Oh damnit, I’m going to be sick. This can’t be happening.”
“What can’t be happening? Meg, are you okay?”
“You know what, it’s nothing. I just remembered a contract I forgot to go over, that’s all.”
Lies, lies, all lies.
My insides were at war. I was about to fall in love with the man I hate? That was to say I believed the psychic , if one wanted to go as far as calling her that.
It left me with no choice, even if none of it was true. If I wanted to intervene and pull a trick on Fate, I needed to figure out a way to never be in the same space as Byron Belmont ever again.
Dinner at Pops’ Pizza Place was the usual happy circus. A family whirlwind of chatter, and the air thick with the aroma of garlic and mozzarella.
Pops was falling over his feet to make sure Mom’s favorite dish was always front and center, and perfect, as though the world might stop spinning if it weren’t.
Then there was Pops telling his version of GenZ Za being shut down right in front of his eyes that morning. To say nothing of watching Elio, the perp being marched to a cop car, sobbing like the little wimp he was.
The Four M’s exchanged secretive glances and sly smiles across the table, knowing Pops would never catch on to what really happened behind the scenes.
Once again, my appetite had been hijacked, downgraded from my usual ravenous self to picking at my food and moving it around the plate. Only to take the occasional bite for show.
Joshua, Pops’ ever-dedicated manager, worked the restaurant with practiced ease, slipping in and out of conversations, but always finding time to sit next to Mimi for a minute or two.
I watched them whenever he did, and for the first time, I found myself feeling a strange knot twisting in my chest. Yearning for what they had. The kind of steady, secure love that never seemed to go off the rails.
Maybe it was the way Josh hung on every word Mimi said as she gushed about the patio set she was dreaming of for their future home.
Or the way she smiled excitedly, when he told her about the changes in the restaurant he wanted to suggest to Pops. And her giggling at something when Joshua whispered in her ear.
Mom and Pops had that too. The way they always had something to talk about, or still stole kisses whenever they could, or how Pops would bring Mom hot milk in bed every night. And how they weathered the bad storms together with devotion and resolve.
That was love.
Maybe I wanted that too. Maybe I was starting to believe it was something I could have.
But then I looked at how easy it was for me to fall for a man who saw me as a stepping stone for his own success, and I realized this kind of perfect love was too far out of reach for someone like me.
I also knew why that was.
I wanted the fireworks, I needed the banter, I craved the challenge. I wanted that look across the room that said I was all his, and he was all mine. It would take one hell of a man to give me all that and not make me feel like I was missing out.
That man didn’t exist. And settling for less was just not my thing.
Pops offered me wine, and I declined. The Bloody Marys had faded some time ago, and I was so over it. No more alcohol during weekdays while I was working for the Belmont Trust. I’d need all my wits to get through this year.
And with the way things were going, I couldn’t afford any more moments when, in a haze of booze, I could do something stupid like find a reason to ignore Byron’s shenanigans and give him a chance to grab my heart.
Mom caught my eye across the table and gestured for me to join her. The noise of the restaurant surrounded us, a perfect cover for what I knew was about to be a conversation I couldn’t avoid.
I slid into the seat next to her, and she didn’t waste a second. “You’ve been very quiet. Want to tell me what’s going on?”
My sigh bounced off the walls. “It turns out my crush is still an asshole and realizing it doesn’t magically erase the crush I have.”
I expected Mom to swoop in with that familiar, comforting reassurance, the kind I could always count on to make everything okay.
“And this is Byron Belmont?” she asked instead, as if she didn’t already know the answer.
“Yeah,” I said, still waiting anxiously for the motherly concern to start blossoming into a heavy dose of sympathy, and maybe a hug. A hug from Mom always fixed everything. Instead, she looked at me like I was nuts.
“Hmmm,” she murmured, thoughtfully.
I blinked. “Wait, why are you saying ‘hmmm’ like that?”
“Because,” she replied, as if it were no big deal, “he texted me today. And what a well-mannered, gracious man he is.”
My jaw nearly hit the table. “Excuse me, he did what?”
“Yes, he texted me this afternoon to thank me for the lasagna and tiramisu. Said it was the best he’d ever had and that he’d be remiss not to thank me personally.”
Was I suddenly living in an alternate reality? How dare that prick text my mom?
“Did you even wonder where he got your number from?” I asked. “I mean, did you, Mom?”
She met my eyes, unbothered. “I figured you gave it to him, Meg. Why are you so upset?”
I stared at her, incredulous. “First off, I didn’t give him your number. It would be like handing Ted Bundy a map to your house. And secondly, it’s all part of his ploy, and you fell for it hook, line and sinker.”
She didn’t flinch, not even a little. “Ted Bundy? Ploy? Are we talking about the same Byron Belmont here?”
I groaned. “You didn’t text him back, right?”
“Actually, I did.”
I rubbed my temples. “I can’t with this day. It keeps getting worse. Tell me you’re kidding, please.”
“Well,” she said with the kind of calm that only someone who was completely out of touch with reality could muster, “he ended up offering Pops and me an all-expenses-paid long weekend at the Belmont Hotel for our 27th anniversary, which was a very generous gift. People from overseas visit that hotel just for the spa. It would have been stupid to refuse.”
“Oh my God, Mom. How did your anniversary come up in this conversation? I mean, not to be nosy about your cozy chat with Byron, my coworker, the coldhearted prick.”
Mom didn’t miss a beat. “I told him the lasagna was Pops’ mom’s recipe from our wedding 27 years ago. And that Isabel and I have been tweaking it ever since. The conversation went on from there.”
Halfway through a second groan, I froze. “What else did you discuss with your new pen pal, if I may ask?”
The stern Mom-look was thrown my way. “Baby, if you’re worried that we discussed you, don’t be. Your name never came up in the conversation, to be honest.”
“Like not even once?”
“No,” she said before her look changed to curiosity. “Why do you hate him all of a sudden? What happened?”
“He is a jackass, just take it from me.”
“Well, I’m sorry it just doesn’t sound like the Byron I know at all.”
The Byron I know… The people in China could hear me squeak out a hysterical groan.
I tried another angle. “Question for you, Mom. What, exactly, do you think Pops’ going to say when he finds out you accepted a free weekend from the spawn of Satan at the Belmont Hotel?"
“I’m keeping it a surprise,” she said, a wicked little smile tugging at her lips. “It’s a couple of months away. By then, I’m sure it’ll all have worked out fine.”
There was no more energy left in me to argue. I just sat there, wondering if I had time to change my name and move to another country before this catastrophe grew a tail and got worse. Not that it could actually get any worse.
I stood up from my chair and kissed Mom on the cheek. “Okay, this is me going now. I’ll just call an Uber. Dinner was great.”
“Going where?” Mom asked. “I thought you were coming home with us. We have the season finale of Real Housewives to watch.”
“I’m going to the apartment tonight. I really have a lot of work to catch up on.”
“But what about lunch tomorrow? I can make you and Byron spaghetti Bolognese, and cannoli for dessert.”
Closing my eyes, I called on the goddess of serenity. But surprise, surprise, she didn’t answer the call.
“There will be no more lunches for me and Byron , Mom. I’m working from home now, okay? Your new pen pal is a total bastard, and if I never saw him again, it would be way too soon.”