Who am I kidding? There’s no sales pitch. She’s the one offering payment right now.
My fingers itch over the buttons. I will need something to distract Caroline with when my high school best friend announces she’s expecting. You’d think older brother announcing their first grandchild would do the trick, but knowing my mother’s disposition, it’s going to make it worse. Just two examples of people succeeding in the only parts of life that have ever mattered to her when I’m practically drowning in failure.
But asuitor, if I could have part of the equation, maybe that’d neutralize the stench of disappointment enough to placate Caroline. It’d be worth a shot, anyway, right? It’s probably the half bottle of wine I’ve already consumed talking, but saying something along those lines sounds brilliant. I close my eyes, breathe twice, pop them open, and text.
ME: Thanks so much for thinking of me, but you know, I actually found my own date.
You’re the worst.
ME: Love you!
Self-advocation. Not my personal strong suit.
CAROLINE: Over six feet?
Oh gosh, the way this doesn’t actually matter to me.
ME: Yes. He fits the list. Solid marriage material!
Way to have a spine, Evie. Really, well done.
CAROLINE: Well, quit teasing me, hunny. Who is it?
A figment of my imagination! We’ll get along smashingly well.
I take another swig of the wine, but the bottle is bone dry. Oh. So half a bottle was a bit of an underestimate then.
ME: I want to keep him a secret a little longer, but you’ll find out soon.
CAROLINE: Looking forward to it. So proud of you.
Well, at least one of us is.
Son of a biscuit, the pit in my stomach expands. The immediate satisfaction my little falsehood provided gives way to the consequences of the impulse.
I do, actually, have to find a date.
And after the whole debutante fiasco, there’s minimal chance of weaseling out of this with an“Oh, he couldn’t come.”
Unfortunately, no one’s really coming to mind for a solid stand-in.
Clare might know someone, though. Maybe I should call her.
Thumb hovering over the call button, I take a deep breath and press. “Evie, Evie twice in one day,” she sings after two rings, brightening my melancholy mood. “What’s up, princess? You get the plane tickets?”
“Oh—no.” I wallowed in self-pity instead. “But I will. When I’m less . . . cloudy. I actually need help.”
“Okay, shoot.”
“Who do we know that fits Caroline’s Suitors for Evie List and would be willing to go on a date to the wedding with me?”
“No offense, but isn’t that list like, tall and breathes at this point?”
“You make solid points.” The list had dwindled significantly over the past five or so years.
“I thought Liam was supposed to ask you.”
I sputter. He wassupposedto? As in his invitation at the park was pre-meditated and not a spur-of-the-moment thing?
