Page 7 of Something like Desire

To have Mom and Dad walk me down the aisle.

To have Lexi by my side every step of the way. (My rock.)

For family and friends to have the time of their lives.

For all the wedding details to be organized to a T.

For the schedule to run smoothly and on time.

I nod patiently and give her a sympathetic smile. I have this list memorized. I could stand up and recite it in front of a crowd of people word for word. I even have nightmares about Gia chasing me with her list in one hand and a machete in the other. I’d already considered the fact that number two is our biggest obstacle now.

“Do you think you’ll be able to get through to Mom?” Gia asks, widening her blue eyes.

“I’m gonna try my hardest.” I grab her hand and squeeze it. I fill her in on my plan to track Mom down on her date. “Do you want to come with me? We could make it a full-on stakeout with disguises, snacks, maybe even some Pink Panther music.” I’m trying to make this whole thing less terrible, a little more fun, but I’m failing miserably.

Gia wrinkles her nose. “Stakeouts aren’t really my thing. Maybe ask someone else...? Like, Maren?”

That actually sounds like the best possible way to turn a horrible situation into something bearable. Maren loves the idea of spying. The last time we went on a stakeout, we followed her now-ex-boyfriend around all night—only to catch him making out with some other woman. That part wasn’t fun but all the driving around and ducking...? That part was awesome.

“She might be up for that,” I admit.

“Thanks,” Gia says. “You know I’d love to help you with this, but I just have so much on my plate right now.”

That isn’t quite true, since Gia has me handling all the difficult tasks, but I bite my tongue. No need to add insult to injury.

I send a quick text to Maren.

Stakeout tonight. I’ll explain later. You in?

Her reply comes almost instantaneously.

Yes! C u soon.

“Well, if I’m going to handle this, I’ll have to miss the meeting,” I tell Gia, standing and giving her a bear hug that’s fueled by adrenaline. “Prepare to have everything go back to normal. Maren and I are on it.”

Two hours and twenty minutes later, Maren and I are in her Honda Civic, parked right outside the front window of Imperial. She’s wearing jean shorts and a brown shirt—unlike her usual brightly patterned outfits—and oversized sunglasses, like she’s ready to get down to some serious sleuthing business. We have a semi-decent view of the people inside, which unfortunately means that I have a great view of my mother cozying up to Nicholas. She’s practically sitting in his lap.Barf. My stomach twists. It’s not just the PDA—it’s seeing her so wrapped up in someone who isn’t Dad. The waitress brings them their meals and Mom finally stops hanging all over Nicholas to eat. The two of them smile and laugh, feeding each other bites from their plates.

“Ugh,” I sigh. “What the hell does she see in him?”

Maren shoots me a sympathetic look. “This is a sucky situation, I get it, but... can I be honest with you?”

Maren’s honesty is more like a brutal attack on the psyche, but I often find it oddly refreshing. “Hit me.”

“He’s hot. For his age.”

“Ew. He isnot.”

“For his age. I mean, look at him.” Her lips curve into a mischievous half-smile and her eyes glaze over a little bit. “Not.Bad. And who knows? Maybe he has a big dick.” She holds up an index finger on each hand and then slowly spreads them apart like she’s measuring a foot-long sandwich.

“Maren!” I shout, batting her hands away. “That’s my mom!”

“Yeah, and your mom’s a human being with needs. Maybe your dad was having erectile dysfunction issues.”

I cover my face with both of my hands and shake my head. “I absolutelycannothave this conversation.”

“Sorry.” I open my eyes and peek at Maren through my fingers. She shrugs and shoots me an apologetic smile. “Any idea what his sign is?”

I wouldn’t expect anything different from Maren, a self-proclaimed astrology pro. I don’t even need to pull up Nicholas’s Facebook profile because I knew she’d ask and did a little research ahead of time.