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Prologue
“Emma! Emma! Emma!”
“Mom! Mom! Mom!” I put my overenthusiastic mom on speaker, so I could continue to write my report for work.
“Funny, sweetie.”
“I thought so.”
“I have some news. Big news,” she squealed as if she was much younger than her fifty-four-year-old self.
“I already know it’s six months until Christmas today. I’m sorry, I don’t have my wish list ready for you. Things have been crazy at the plant.”
My mom’s blood ran red and green. She lived for Christmas, or pretty much any holiday, but Christmas was her favorite. If she didn’t have at least half her shopping done by July, she thought something awful would happen, like the couple from The Notebook would break up. I never had told her that Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams went splitsville a long time ago. She would have blamed it on the fact that she only made seven side dishes instead of ten for Christmas dinner that year, or maybe because she forgot to buy the postman a gift.
“Then it’s a good thing that I already know what I’m getting you for Christmas this year,” she sang to the tune of “Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town.”
Perfect. It was so hard to think of at least twenty things I wanted. Sometimes I thought Mom forgot I was thirty—not thirteen—and that I owned a house, a Jeep, and even had a big girl job as a metallurgist for the steel plant. “I can’t wait to see what you picked out.”
“Oh, honey, he is a cool drink of water—make that a hot toddy on a cold winter’s night. Actually, he’s more like a present you are going to want to unwrap all year long.”
I minimized the melting efficiency report on my screen and gave Mom my full attention. I sadly knew where this was going but decided to try and divert her. “Are you finally getting me the Golden Retriever I’ve been begging for since I was nine?”
“Emma Elaine Loveless, you know I wanted to, but your sisters were allergic and now you work all day, and who would you raise it with?”
“Mom, single people have dogs all the time.”
“But it would be so nice to share a puppy with someone. Or you know, maybe a baby?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I have to get this report done by the end of today. Do you think we could talk about this for the 76,985th time again tonight?”
She giggled. “It’s only been 56,321 times. Besides, I’ve found the perfect man for you and he’s going to look fantastic in our Christmas photos. Seriously, you will be the cutest couple. Even cuter than that Notebook couple. They’re still together, right?”
“Um . . . well . . . What about my Christmas gift?” I hated lending fuel to her unquenchable fire, but I couldn’t bring myself to torture her.
“Oh, honey, really, he’s the one. I have this feeling. I got tingles all over.”
I hoped she didn’t have nerve damage; that was the only reason I could imagine she would be tingling. When it came to me, she had horrible taste. For herself, she had picked two winners.
“Tingles like when you set me up with Darryl who you met at the gas station and it turned out he had stolen the Mercedes he was driving that you admired so much?”
“That was just a silly misunderstanding.”
“Mom, he was arrested before our dinner even arrived.” Unfortunately, that wasn’t my worst date.
“You don’t even like Thai food, so you’re welcome.”
“Okay, what about the time you gave Adam my number and he turned out to be married to three women and was looking for a fourth?” That was my worst date. Creepy.
“You have to admit he was handsome.”
I went from pinching the bridge of my nose to rubbing my temples. “Mom, report, remember?”
“You’re the one who keeps interrupting me.”
“My apologies, please tell me who I will need to be blocking from my phone in the near future?”
“Believe me, you are going to want to put Sawyer, I mean Dr. Sawyer King on speed dial.”
“What’s he a doctor of? Let me guess. He has a PhD in folklore,” I said dryly.
“My sides are hurting; you are so funny. No. He’s my new optometrist.”
“What happened to Dr. Alvarez?”
“She retired, and Sawyer has replaced her.”
I squirmed at the way she emphasized his name. “You’re on a first name basis?”
“He’s going to be my son-in-law.”
I rolled my eyes. “Does he know that? Please say no.”
“Sweetie, I know how to be subtle.”
“Like a sledgehammer,” I said under my breath.
“Do you need some cookies? You sound a little snarky.”
Cookies did sound good, especially Mom’s cookies. Maybe some of her peanut butter ones. “Just tell me what you told him.”
In her pause I could hear her trying to spin the tale she had told him. It probably went something like this: Emma Loveless is my oldest daughter. You may wonder why we don’t have the same last name. Well, don’t you worry, she’s never been married, it’s just that her dad died when she was a baby and I remarried. And just because her last name is Loveless doesn’t mean she’s cursed never to have love. The fact that she believes it doesn’t make it true. Honestly, she is the sweetest girl. Smart, clever, athletic, she coaches soccer, and she can bake about anything your heart desires. And did I mention she’s cute?
