I’m going to have to choose. And there’s only one choice I can live with.
I scroll to the other message from Elliot that I also deflected that morning.
Team BBQ Saturday. 2 PM. Very casual, very family-friendly. Interested?
I know this isn’t really about a BBQ. It’s about whether I’m brave enough to fight for something good, or whether I’m going to let Evan suffocate what’s left of my life. I stare at the response I sent this morning. The “maybe” deflection that I’ve gotten so good at giving before I start typing another response to her.
Actually, yes. We’ll go.
12
DEX
The next shirthits the floor, joining its rejected brethren in a sad pile of designer cotton. I stare at my reflection, wondering if blue henley number five looks any different from blue henley numbers one through four.
“It’s a barbecue, not the Met Gala,” I mutter, running a hand through hair I’ve styled twice already. “Get it together, Malone.”
My phone sits silent on the dresser, mocking me. No confirmation text from Golda about today. No “see you soon” or “running late” or even “can’t make it after all.” Just radio silence since she accepted Elliot’s invitation three days ago.
Maybe she’s not coming. Maybe Evan’s threats spooked her more than she let on. Maybe she looked at that photo online and realized exactly what dating me would mean for her carefully controlled life.
My phone buzzes and I lunge for it, pathetically eager. But it’s just Maggie, because of course it is. My sister has a sixth sense for when I’m being pathetic.
“What?” I answer, already regretting it.
“Wow, someone’s grumpy for a guy with a potential date today.” Her voice is entirely too cheerful for someone calling to heckle her favorite brother. “Rough morning?”
“It’s not a date,” I correct her, yanking shirt number six out of the drawer. “It’s a team barbecue. That she might not even attend. With her kids. And the entire team. And their families.”
“So, a date with witnesses. If she shows up.”
“She said yes.”
“She said maybe first. Why does she hate you so much?”
“Why do you think she hates me?”
“Because you’re texting me existential dread at noon on a Saturday, and last week you were floating on cloud nine after dinner with her.”
I sit heavily on the edge of my bed. “There’s stuff going on with her ex. Custody threats. It’s complicated.”
“How complicated?”
“The kind where dating me could actually cost her her kids.”
Maggie’s quiet for a moment, which means she’s processing the seriousness of what I just said. “Jesus, Dex. No wonder she’s scared.”
“Yeah, well. Might not matter if she doesn’t show up today.”
“She’ll show up.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Elliot texted me this morning asking for advice on kid-friendly BBQ activities. She wouldn’t be planning activities if she didn’t think they were coming.”
Relief floods through me, followed immediately by terror. “She’s coming. She’s actually coming.”
“And you’re panicking.”
