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Emma snorts. “You would.”
“Listen,” I hold my hands up. “No judgment. It’s not my thing. Nor is being cuffed and tasered. I’m a lover, not a fighter.”
Mya has her hand over her mouth to keep from losing it. “Um, we need to find you a nice girl.”
I give them both a stern look. “Listen. I don’t want to be fixed up anymore. I do just fine on my own. But thank you for always thinking of me.”
“It’s your fault.” Mya shakes her head at Emma. “You brought that weird girl to our happy hour a few months ago and now he doesn’t trust us.”
“Lala? She’s hot.” Emma gapes and looks from Mya to me with surprise.
“She licked my face when she introduced herself.” I raise a brow.
“She’s confident in her own skin. And look at these brows. The girl is a master aesthetician.”
“Hey, that’s great. I’d just prefer her not to lick my face. You know I’m a bit of a germaphobe. So, threesomes with a side of pain and a face-licking aesthetician are just not my idea of a good time.” I laugh and push to my feet. “I’ve got a meeting with Jack. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow,” they say at the same time before heading out the door.
When I make my way to Jack’s office, he’s on the phone. We spend the next hour talking about everything from the responsibilities that will come with making partner, to the urgency to find a new office manager as Miranda, our current office manager, is leaving in ten days.
I’ve sat in on multiple interviews already. Jack hasn’t liked a single one. He’s a great guy, but he’s picky about who he brings into his office.
I couldn’t agree more.
On my drive home, my mother calls the minute I pull out of the parking garage.
“Hey there,” I say as I turn out onto the street. I live downtown, but I prefer taking my car versus public transportation on the days that I choose not to walk. It’s fall in New York City, and I’m happy to avoid getting the latest flu.
“Hello, my love. How was your day?” she asks.
My mom is one of the best people I’ve ever known, along with my father.
“It was a good day. How about yours?”
“Well, I saw Dr. Rooney today. He’d heard that you and Hortance broke up. I didn’t want to tell him that she was too—what’s the word you used?”
“Bougie,” I say. I didn’t dare tell my mother that her longtime dentist’s daughter wanted to strap me to a bed and electrocute my ass. My mother is a mama bear through and through, and she’d have zero hesitation kicking Hortance’s rich ass to the curb. So, I’d said that she was just a bit pretentious for me. It was an easy sell as Hortance and I had run into my parents at dinner two weeks ago, and my mother had been unimpressed. It didn’t take a lot to convince her that we weren’t a fit.
“Yes. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that she was an ice queen. That girl could freeze the devil with just a look.”
Did I mention my mother has a flair for the dramatics?
“How’d he take it?” I ask as I drive down the street and glance at the curb where I’d accidentally doused the hottest girl I’ve ever seen, looking like a goddamn angel wearing all white, in a puddle of filthy water. I’d panicked when she looked like she wanted to tear my face off and stomp on it, and the man behind me laid on his horn and I drove off. Not my best moment. I’d circled back around and tried to find her, but she was gone.
“I think ole Hortance spun herself quite the web. Dr. Rooney was a bit chilly to me, and he said that his daughter had higher standards than to date someone who hadn’t even made partner yet. The nerve,” my mother shouted.
“I’m just relieved it won’t be awkward when I go to my cleaning next week. I’m fine with him thinking that she dumped me.”
My mother is still huffing and outraged about the lie.
“Take it down a notch, baby. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” my father says in the background. “Our boy is a winner.”
I can’t help but chuckle. My parents are everything anyone would ever want in parents. They celebrate everything, and growing up, they treated my tenth and thirteenth place trophies like I’d won Olympic gold. Every accomplishment is documented on their walls.
In the eyes of Winston and Lori Willoughby, I can do no wrong.
I doubt the girl I covered in gutter water would say the same.
