Chapter 10
“My sister called me ‘directionless and unfocused’ today,” I said to Sloane from the couch when she walked in the door. I’d gotten home earlier from my brunch than she had from hers, even with the additional driving time. I’d been so distracted that I’d forgotten to stop by the bookstore.
“Sounds like Audrey. Did you tell her she was bossy and overbearing?”
“No, I said nothing.” The entire drive home I’d thought about her comments. They hurt, but they really were the story of my life. Reacting to things instead of acting. Letting life take me on whatever path it decided instead of pursuing what I wanted. “But maybe she’s right.”
She dropped her purse on the coffee table and sat next to me. She smelled like fresh air and a little like bacon from brunch. “Don’t you think she gets enough affirmations in her comments section? You should’ve told her she was wrong.”
“So you don’t think I’m directionless and unfocused? Easily distracted by…”
“Rob’s penis?”
I knew she was kidding, but that comment felt like a punch to the gut. “Among other things.”
“Compared to her, everyone is unfocused,” Sloane said, not necessarily denying the accusation. “Why did she say this? Was there a point?”
“She wants me to talk to Rob, demand a promotion. And she’s pregnant.”
“You’re blaming this on pregnancy hormones? How very feminist of you.”
“No, not the hormones. Although hormones are real. Should I blame it on the hormones?” I thought about that, then shook my head. “No, not hormones. But maybe it came out a little harsher than normal because she’s pregnant. I’m sure she meant well.”
Sloane slid the cell phone she’d been holding onto the coffee table like she now planned to stay awhile. “I hope you told her you were already planning to talk to Rob about a promotion, without her advice.”
“I actually did.”
“Good,” she said. “Because you did.”
Yes, I did and I would. I’d show her I was capable of more than she gave me credit for. “How was your brunch?” I asked. “Better than mine?”
“You’re calling a T-ball game brunch now?”
“No, Audrey took me to brunch after.”
“Well, at least you got a meal with the insults.”
I snorted out a laugh.
“Oh!” She grabbed my arm. “Guess who else announced a pregnancy today?”
“Hopefully not you,” I said.
“I would tell you first, for sure.”
“Before Miles?”
“Is this Miles’s child?”
“I don’t know. Is it? Or is there someone else in the running for the title? Are you cheating on Miles?”
“I’m not cheating.”
“Then why are you questioning the paternity?”
“I’m not pregnant.”
“But in our hypothetical situation, you were. Maybe you need to analyze that reaction.”
She laughed and shook her head. “Cheryl. Cheryl is pregnant.”
“Aw. That’s nice. Does she know who the father is?”
“Hopefully her husband.”
“You have me questioning everything.”
My phone buzzed with a notification, and I picked it up to see a message waiting in a dating app. I really wasn’t in the mood to chat with random strangers today, but when I opened the app, the most recent message was from Oliver.
Did I see you today?
The blood seemed to drain from my face.
“What?” Sloane asked. “Something bad?”
I showed her the message.
“Did he?!” she yelled.
“I hope he didn’t.” I pointed to my outfit.
“Ew!” she said.
“I know.”
“For someone who expects to meet her future boyfriend organically, out in the world, in some random cute way, you sure do dress like a slob more often than you should.”
“If my future boyfriend can’t love me looking like this, he doesn’t deserve me when I look like a goddess.”
“You say that with so much confidence for someone who hid from a guy today.”
“How do you know I hid?”
She nodded toward my phone. “His message.” When I didn’t protest, she chuckled, then stood, pointing to her outfit—some orange cropped corduroy pants, a white boho-style V-neck, and some black strappy sandals—and turned in a slow circle.
“This is how you dress to meet someone. Take note.” With that, she picked up her phone, blew me a kiss, and headed toward the hall. “I have some work calls to make.”
“On a Saturday?”
“I know. I’m such a dedicated boss.”
“If that’s what you want to call it.”
After she left, I stared back at the cryptic message. Had he seen me? I thought I’d ducked in time.
Maybe? I texted back.
Perhaps the question should be: did you see me?
I grunted. He wasn’t going to let this slide. If you saw me then you know why I would make sure I didn’t see you.
No… actually, I have no idea why.
I let out a breathy laugh. That’s nice, but three people today told me I looked like garbage so I know you’re lying.
What kind of friends do you have?
One was a little girl. And they are known to be the most honest demographic on earth.
Are there actual studies supporting this?
I adjusted the throw pillow that was digging into my lower back and typed: If there aren’t, there should be.
So the lack of acknowledgment had nothing to do with me and everything to do with you in a cute baseball cap?
I sighed, then typed: You did see me. But you were on a date. I wasn’t going to interrupt your date.
I really wish you would’ve , he responded.
That bad?
Yes.
I had a bad date today too.
Oh yeah?
Yes, with my sister. The second person to tell me I looked terrible.
And the third? he asked.
My roommate, Sloane.
And to think if I had seen you for more than half a second, I could’ve been the fourth. You took that privilege away from me.
I snapped a quick selfie—hat, wrinkly shirt, and all—and sent it to him before I changed my mind.
His response: Terrible. I can’t believe you left the house like that.
Right?
No, but in all seriousness, you look gorgeous.
My heart fluttered in my chest. “Down, girl, down,” I said. But to him I wrote: Didn’t I tell you no generic compliments before a first date?
We’ve already had a first date.
If a second date doesn’t follow within a year, the dating history gets reset.
Not sure I want a reset on all my first dates.
I cringed, sure that was his nice guy way of saying, Yeah, we don’t need a reset on our terrible first date. And I agreed… didn’t I?
Do you live in Thousand Oaks? I typed back. That’s where I grew up and where my sister and my parents still lived. And it’s where I’d gone today for the T-ball game and brunch afterward.
No, I live in Glendale. Do you live in Thousand Oaks?
I live in Glendale! It was weird to me that we didn’t know this very basic information about each other. One of the first things we should’ve known, it seemed. Well, not that weird; he had asked me next to no questions on our date. And I’d matched his energy.
That’s probably why the apps keep matching us , he responded.
Yes, that must be it. They don’t care about our compatibility, they just care that we can easily make late night house calls.
Why are we making late night house calls? I could practically hear the sarcasm in his voice.
I put my socked feet up on the coffee table in front of me. Oh, you know, borrowing a cup of sugar, or a toilet or something.
A toilet?
In this scenario my plumbing would be backed up and I wouldn’t be able to find a twenty-four-hour service to fix it at such a late hour.
Oh, right, the backed-up plumbing. I should’ve thought of that. Well, my toilet is yours if you ever need it.
Is toilet code for something else? I asked.
No!
I laughed. Sorry, you’re right. Toilets and carrots are completely different.
Entirely.
Why was your date bad? I texted.
We just didn’t connect , he responded. The older I get the more I realize I don’t want to settle. Alone isn’t the worst thing to be.
Is that how I sound when I say that?
How’s that?
I took two breaths and typed, Like I don’t mean it.