National Drink Wine Day - February 18th
LAINEY
“It’s National Drink Wine Day!”
My sister stands on the other side of my front door with a bottle in her hand. Harper never comes by without a text and usually three days’ notice.
My stomach clenches. Is something wrong? Shit, my apartment is a wreck. “What are you doing here?”
Her smile deflates, and the arm with the wine drops. “Did you hear what I just said? It’s National Drink Wine Day. It’s a holiday, and I’m your holidate.”
My mind immediately jumps to Ben and what I did on my last holidate. A flash of heat with a dash of mortification ripples through me. I’ve been doing my best to forget the fact I gave him a lap dance in my underwear—in his office with a bar full of people mere feet away.
“Lainey? Seriously. Are you going to turn me away while I have a top-notch Pinot in my hand?”
I shake my head. “Sorry, come in. No, you’ve just surprised me. But it’s a good surprise.”
I haven’t seen her since New Year’s Day so it really is nice to see her .
We hug as she comes into my apartment. “Well, I saw what day it was on social media, and I thought it would be a good excuse to come over. Plus, I need a break from Cassie. She’s been extra-extra this week.”
“I don’t believe that. My niece is perfect.”
“That’s because you don’t live with her. You should have seen her on Valentine’s Day. She threw a fit through dinner then refused to go to bed until after eleven. By the time we were done with her, Chandler and I couldn’t be bothered to talk to each other, much less anything else.”
Harper stops as she fully steps into my living room and takes in the laundry, dirty and clean, strewn around the room. My kitchen isn’t any better with a sink stacked full of dishes.
“Jeez, Lainey. How can you live like this?”
This is why I need notice before Harper visits. She already lectures me enough every time I change jobs. I don’t need to give her any more ammo.
“If you’re going to criticize my apartment, you can take your precious Pinot and leave. You didn’t exactly give me notice to tidy up.”
“Fine. Sorry. But while I open the wine, can you at least move any dirty laundry away from the couch?”
I roll my eyes but scoop up all the clothes and toss them in my room. I’ll probably have to wash them all over again since I now have no idea what’s clean and what’s dirty. Thankfully, Harper says nothing about how I “cleaned up.” She settles on the couch, hands me a glass, and we clink them together.
“Happy National Drink Wine Day.”
“I can’t believe this is a holiday, though you won’t hear me complaining,” I say as I bring the glass to my lips.
“Me either.”
It’s hard to believe Harper came over simply because she wanted some sister time. It’s not that we’re not close. She’s only three years older than me, but she spent a lot of time taking care of me growing up when our mom was either at work or caught up in some guy. Or getting over a guy.
Harper hasn’t let go of that caretaker role—hence the lectures. However, she did have her reverse harem phase in college—something she pretends doesn’t exist or that I don’t know about. Her sister/mom mode is firmly back in place and has only intensified since becoming a mom.
“So, what really brings you here?”
Harper’s overcome with a hurt expression, but I’m not buying it. I raise my eyebrows at her, and she drops the pretense. “Okay, I might have a couple of ulterior motives, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to see you or spend time with you.”
While her visit might not be completely altruistic, I know she’s being truthful. Since having Cassie, her life has become a different kind of busy. Honestly, I don’t think she takes enough time for herself. If she needs a reason to come see me without having mom guilt, I’m good with that.
“I believe you. Now hit me with these ulterior motives.”
“Well, would you mind babysitting Cassie one day so Chandler and I can have a date night? We’re at our wits’ end after this week.”
“Of course. You know I’ll watch her anytime.”
Harper sags in relief, and her eyes go glassy. Shit, it must be bad if she’s on the verge of falling apart. My sister prides herself on keeping it together. I take her hand in mine and give it a squeeze.
“Thanks.” She blinks a few times, erasing the evidence of tears.
“And the second?”
“I want to talk about Mom and Mike.”
My stomach hitches, and this irrational thought that she’s caught me being naughty with Ben comes over me. Then I remember she doesn’t know anything. As far as she knows, I haven’t talked to him beyond New Year’s Eve. I did confess to my best friend, Josie, that we kissed at midnight, but that’s all I’ve even told her.
“Lainey, this guy sounds legit.” Her voice is full of excitement and wonder, and I totally get it. Could Mom have finally met a decent guy? “She told me he had his house decked out in candles and sent her two dozen roses for Valentine’s Day. Two dozen! You know how expensive that is?”
“Yeah, and you know what she did? Jumped his bones.”
Harper’s face scrunches in horror. “Oh, I didn’t need to know that. How do you even know that?”
“Because Ben walked in on them.”
“His son? How do you know?”
“Because he told me. He split his forehead open trying to escape. I ended up taking him to the ER to get stitches.”
“Okay, wait. How are you talking to his son?”
“He has my number from New Year’s Eve. Thought it would be funny to share his humiliating encounter.” It’s not a lie. It might omit several key details about our relationship, but they’re not really needed to tell the story.
Harper takes a sip of her wine. “Of course, Mom would jump straight into bed with him. She can never take it slow. Mom says he hasn’t really dated since his wife died.” She looks at me, her expression now more concerned. “You probably know more about him if you spent time with his son. Think he’ll run soon?”
“I don’t know. We haven’t talked about him much. I know he and his wife didn’t celebrate Valentine’s Day, thought it was an unnecessary holiday. But he asked Ben for advice on how to give Mom a good Valentine’s date, so the fact that he went through the effort seems promising. I think he’s a good guy.”
“What about Ben? He a good guy?”
“Yeah. ”
Her brows bunch. “Why did you say it like that? Like yeah, but… ”
But he’s another frat bro asshole.
Except he’s not an asshole. The whole label doesn’t sit well. Which is incredibly na?ve of me, especially after he was recognized in my Valentine’s post. There were several suggestive comments from women who seemed intimately familiar with him. I even got a few DMs warning me away from him.
“In college, he was a well-known player. I even heard of him.”
Harper slumps into the couch. “Great. Another fuckboy. Well, let’s hope his dad doesn’t take a page from his book.”
“I don’t think he is, Harp. Seriously, I have the same good feeling you do. But I guess it’s hard to get excited about it.”
She sighs. “I know. Some of them have really fooled us.” She winces as she says it and glances at me. After all the assholes that came around our mom, you’d think I’d possess a special radar for them, but nope. I met a charming frat boy and fell in love. And was blissfully unaware I was an experiment in how many virgins can I fool at the same time . So, yeah, I have experience being a fucktoy.
Finding out Ben is the infamous Ben Kelley hit a little too close to home. I wanted to throw up when the nurse said his last name. Then watching him flirt with girl after girl at the bar didn’t help. But hearing his story…it didn’t sound like what happened with me and Isaac. I really shouldn’t judge him for having a robust sex life like most college students.
“Well, I was looking forward to meeting Ben too, but not so much now,” Harper says.
“No, you should meet him. He doesn’t come off as a tool. He’s actually funny and easy to talk to and—” I stop when Harper straightens and stares me dead in the eye. “What?”
“You cannot get involved with Mom’s boyfriend’s son. ”
“I’m not. I just said he was nice.”
“No, you got this dreamy look on your face and started singing his praises.”
“No, I’m only saying he might not be the douchebag player like the DW’s. Or Isaac.”
DW is short for dick wad, which is what we’d started calling Mom’s boyfriends.
“But he’s still a player.”
I shrug. The way he so easily flirted and accepted numbers still rankles. I also wonder if it’s all a show. If he even likes it.
I’m just the shiny object behind the bar.
It's who I needed to be at the time.
But I barely know him so it’s hard to trust if he’s being real.
“Lainey, you can’t pull your little stunts like in high school and fuck this up for Mom.”
A small sliver of shame fills me. I’m not exactly proud of the few times I purposely sabotaged my mom’s relationships. Harper had gone to college, and I found myself all alone while my mom continued to constantly date. I finally got fed up. I erased texts so she’d think she’d been ghosted. I deleted her dating apps. Acted like a brat if I met them. There was one guy she was really falling for, but I overheard him answer his phone calling someone baby. I sent him a nasty text from her phone then blocked him. One night while she was crying over that DW, I confessed and told her I was sick of her ignoring me for a bunch of assholes. Everything changed after that night. She stopped dating and didn’t start again until I was in college. It was the first time in all my childhood that my mom was fully present, so even if it wasn’t right, I don’t regret it.
“Are you kidding me, Harp? This isn’t remotely the same.”
Harper folds her arms. “Maybe not exactly. But what happens if this guy pisses you off? Breaks your heart? You can’t go all revenge crazy again and break up Mom and Mike. ”
Whoa. Seriously?
“Are you really comparing the actions of a desperate fifteen-year-old to this situation?”
“It’s just…” Harper stops, looking contemplative before sighing. “Mom is happy, Lain. Really happy. And yeah, she wasn’t perfect when we were growing up, but she deserves this chance at love. You can’t take it away from her.”
That seems a little dramatic. And why does it feel like she’s holding back something? I don’t think that’s what she was originally going to say. But she has a point. I do want to see Mom fall in love with a good guy and have the happiness she’s always wanted. Getting involved with Ben any more than I already have would make things messy.
I have no business wondering if he’s reformed fuckboy or not. My heart has been eviscerated once, and I have no desire for it to happen again.
So, I respond with the truth. “The last thing I want to do is fuck this up for Mom. Don’t worry about Ben. Promise.”