Page 9 of I Wish He Would

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was, but he needed her input on everything from what he should order to if he should compliment me to if he should give me a kiss good night.”

My mouth falls open. “You can’t be serious.”

“I wish I wasn’t.”

“I can’t believe you made it all the way to the end of dinner.”

Alyssa lets out a dry laugh. “He works with Patrice, so I was going to suck it up. And get this, his mom is his and Patrice’s boss, so I had to tread lightly. But when he smarmily asked if I picked my dress out just for him, I couldn’t do it anymore.” She shivers.

I clench my hands into fists at the nerve of the guy.

“So then I tried the whole ‘I have to use the restroom, I’ll be right back’ line, but his mom followed me to the bathroom, and I lost my chance to escape. But you best believe when he asked her if he should kiss me, I cut that off real quick. I yelled over my shoulder that I wasn’t interested as I sprinted to my car.”

“He sounds like a real catch,” I deadpan.

“His mom sure thinks so.” She falls back against the couch cushion. Her hair splays around her like a golden halo. “But then you called and saved me. Thanks again for that.”

“You know I’ll always be here for you.”

“Same.” She sighs. “Do you think I should give up on dating? Something must be wrong with me to have this many bad first dates.”

I scoot over and wrap my arm around her shoulder, pulling her into my side. The action usually feels friendly, something I’ve done with her hundreds of times. But tonight, when the scent of her coconut shampoo hits me, something feels…different. I push away the thought. “There’s nothing wrong with you. It’s not your fault the men you go on dates with are the worst example of the male species.” I pause. “It’s Patrice’s.”

Alyssa laughs, her body shaking where it’s pressed against mine. “She’s only responsible for a handful of the dates. The rest were ones I found on dating apps.”

I squeeze her shoulder. “You just haven’t found the right guy yet.”

She looks over at me. It almost feels like she’s searching for the answer to an unspoken question before she faces the screen and sighs. “You’re probably right.”

“I’m serious.” I wait until she meets my gaze again. Her bright blue eyes look worn down, defeated. I hate that anyone ever made her feel like that. Like less than she is. “None of these guys have been right for you because they’re not even on the same playing field as you. You’re probably the most beautiful, ambitious, and kind woman they’ve ever met. You need a man who isn’t intimidated by you and has goals of his own.”

“So, a unicorn.” Alyssa bites her bottom lip like she’s said too much.

“I guess, if you want to put it that way.”

“Maybe I should give up dating for a while.” She runs her palm across the blanket on her lap.

“Talk to your friends about it first. Maybe they have some better ideas since they’ve almost all found love this past year.” I don’t know why I suggest it. Before she got here, I was just thinking about how I don’t want our routine—our friendship—to change. But after seeing her sad and dejected, I had to say something. I care about her happiness.

She grabs another piece of the dessert, clearly avoiding any more romance talk. “Can we watch the show? I could use a good laugh that’s not at the expense of my dating life.”

I press play on the remote. “You’ve got it.”

I wouldn’t trade my friendship with Austin for the world, but there’s something about spending time with the girls who have been my best friends since we were eleven that is irreplaceable.

Shayna pulls into the parking lot of our favorite biscuit shop that we all go to every Sunday morning to kick-start our week. I’ll never say no to more time with the girls I know will never judge me and will always have my back.

I tap my fingers on my knees in the backseat of the SUV, ready to dive into my favorite biscuit breakfast sandwich and some bonuts—the most heavenly little biscuit donut holes, fried to perfection and tossed in cinnamon sugar.

I’m in need of some more sugar therapy and time spent laughing with my girls after that horrific date last night. We’ve been through it all together. Puberty. Breakups. College acceptance letters. Loss. First jobs. And I couldn’t be more thankful to have them by my side.

After I met Kelsey, Shayna, and Mallory in the front row at a Taylor Swift concert in sixth grade, we dubbed ourselves the Long Live Girlies and have been inseparable ever since. Every Friday evening, we had our weekly girls’ night, and once we graduated college, we fulfilled our childhood promise to live together. I know that when I’m old and gray, I’ll look back and cherish these days of sharing a space together with my besties that feel more like sisters.

I get out of the car and spot our friend Tess waiting by the front door. She waves at us with a smile on her face and her dark brown hair slicked back in a high ponytail. I don’t know how she manages to get everywhere early and look so good when she’s a single mom to a five-year-old girl, but she makes everything look effortless. Tess joined our group when Kelsey started dating Tyler, Tess’s brother, who also happens to be our next-door neighbor. She fits in seamlessly, like the invisible stitch that ties our friend group together.

I pull her in for a hug. “It’s good to see you.”