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Chapter1
Charlotte
Present Day
“Pedestrians have the right of way!”
I glare at the driver of the car that almost took me out in the crosswalk, throwing up the bird for good measure. Stone-faced and looking annoyed that he had to slam on the brakes to avoid hitting me, the driver waits until I’m just past the hood of his sports car before peeling out in the intersection and resuming his reckless driving.
“Jesus Christ. It’s a Sunday. Where on earth could you be speeding off to?” I grumble to myself as my feet find the safety of the sidewalk and then I continue on my trek to Frankie’s to meet my girls. Although, this is California, so everyone is always in a goddamn hurry to get places, myself usually included.
But it’s a Sunday morning in Los Angeles, the scorching sun already shining brightly and beating down on my skin, and today is the one day I allow myself to rest. For the beginning of May, the heat is making its presence known, but soon the temperatures will drop again, playing tricks on the natives—teasing us with the warm weather, snatching it back, and then hitting us for real with a vengeance once summer officially starts.
I love summer though. And I love California. But boy, do you pay the price for the good weather. However, it’s exactly where I wanted to be after leaving South Carolina for college on the other side of the country and deciding to stay here after graduation.
The vibration of my cell phone pulls me from my thoughts, and my mother’s name flashing across the screen has me debating whether I should even answer the call.
I love my mother. I do. But most of our conversations these days consist of friendly reminders from her about my nonexistent love life. Add on updates of people from back home getting married and having kids, and what the latest trip is that her and my dad are taking, and I feel reprimanded in a backhanded way for choosing to establish myself in my career and avoid incessant dating in the pursuit of a man.
Just another reminder of how I’ll never measure up to her expectations.
Growing up it was all about my social status and what I was wearing. Now it’s about any man that she thinks would make a good husband. The woman even made a dating profile for me so she could sort through potential matches. I delete every one she sends me.
“Good morning, Mom,” I say once I pick up the call. I know that avoiding this conversation will only mean dodging multiple attempts for her to reach me throughout the day. I’d rather get the chastising over with this morning so I can enjoy the rest of my day off without dreading our conversation.
“Charlotte, honey. How are you?” The southern twang in my mother’s voice always brings a sense of comfort, even though she has the kill-them-with-kindness technique nailed down flawlessly behind her cheery drawl. The saying “you kill more flies with honey than vinegar” was invented to describe the way a southern woman can take you down a few notches with just her words alone and a tight-lipped smile.
“Great. I’m on my way to meet the girls right now for brunch.”
“Oh, how are they? I must say, you four always look like you’re having the best time in your pictures on Facebook,” she replies sweetly. “Too bad you’re all still single.” And there’s the first jab.
“What do you need this morning, Mom?” I ask, avoiding feeding into her disappointment with my relationship status as I enjoy the small reprieve of shade from the trees lining the sidewalk as I continue toward brunch.
“It’s been a week since we’ve spoken. Forgive me for wanting to check up on my only daughter.” This is also her way of reminding me that I’m the only way she’ll ever have grandchildren.
My parents tried for years to have another kid after me, but were never successful. Secondary infertility—as it’s called—is a real thing, something she also likes to remind me of now that I’m over the age of thirty. Each year that passes lessens my chances of having children—as if I need her friendly reminders each time we speak.
“I’m good, Mom. Busy. Work has been crazy.”
Being a senior advertising editor for Revision Magazine is every career aspiration I could have dreamed of. I work for one of the most profitable magazines for women in the country and get final say on all advertising that goes in each issue. I make more than enough money to support myself and am damn good at my job.
But apparently that’s not what my focus should be on at my age.
“Charlotte, honey…how are you ever going to find a husband if you keep working the way that you do?”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I keep walking, grateful that Frankie’s is only one block away now so I’ll have an excuse to get off the phone with her. “I don’t need a husband, Mom.”
“I know, I know. You’ve always been independent and headstrong. But don’t you want a man to take care of you? Someone to grow old with like me and your father have? Don’t you want to have children and give us grandchildren?”
“I don’t need a man to take care of me, Mom. This is the twenty-first century. Women can be just as successful if not more than a man can, and I do very well for myself. And not every woman wants children.” I actually do someday, but I know plenty of women who are choosing not to have kids these days and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. Society might think differently though—and by society, I mean my mother.
“You know, if you don’t find someone soon, you’ll never get to celebrate a thirtieth wedding anniversary like me and your father, Charlotte. I’m just worried about you.”
And there it is—the glaring reminder that my life is practically over because every day I remain single is a day I won’t get to live in wedded bliss like my parents. However, if you do the math—I’m thirty and that’s how many years they’ve been married, so can we say shotgun wedding, everyone?
“How is the planning going for that, by the way?” I ask, hoping to steer her attention away from me and this dreaded topic that gets more stifling every time I pick up her phone calls.
“Oh, so stressful. I know it will all be worth it once we get there, but coordinating everything from thousands of miles away is wearing on me. Your father is actually taking me to Napa next weekend to help take my mind off it so we can hopefully relax.”
Oh, to live my parents’ life and be able to take a trip to unwind from the stress of planning another trip.
“Sounds like just what you need,” I reply sweetly through clenched teeth. Just as I arrive at Frankie’s, my mother drops another bomb on me.
“We actually have a layover in Los Angeles, so we thought it would be the perfect time to see you, Charlotte. I miss my girl.”
A sigh leaves my lips and my shoulders fall from her words. “I miss you too, Mom.” Hey, I know my mother can annoy the shit out of me, and clearly doesn’t understand healthy boundaries on some topics, but she’s still my mom. And I can’t remember the last time I saw my dad other than on Facetime.
“So, do you think you can make some time for your parents on Friday? Take off for a few hours and have lunch with us? Take us to one of those hip new restaurants in L.A. that all the celebrities go to.”
I snort at her one-sided view of Los Angeles. Yes, there are a ton of famous people that live here, but more often than not, southern California is just full of normal people trying to live their lives as best they can while basking in the sunshine and drowning in debt from the cost of living here.
“I think I could make some time for you.”
“Perfect. So…”
“Listen, Mom? I just got to the restaurant, and the girls are waiting for me inside. We’ll talk more on Friday, okay?”
“Of course, dear. Tell the girls I said hello. I can’t wait to see them next month for the renewal.”
“They’re looking forward to seeing you too. Love you, Mom.”
“Love you, Charlotte. And make sure anytime you leave the house you have your makeup on, sweetie. You never know when you might run into the one.”
I roll my eyes as I end the call, cursing under my breath while I open the door to Frankie’s Diner, grateful that our brunch always includes bottomless mimosas. Lord knows I need a few after that conversation.
The smell of greasy food hits my nostrils as I step in and see two of my best friends waiting at our usual table. Penelope will be fashionably late as always, most likely due to whatever social event she was out at late last night.
As I walk up to the table, Noelle stands from her seat to greet me. “You look like you need a drink more than I do.”
As I intercept her hug, I give her a squeeze and then lean back so she can read my face. “I just got off the phone with my mother.”
“Oh, Jesus. Yup, we definitely need champagne.” She puts her hand in the air to get Frankie’s attention, the old man who owns the establishment and treats us like the queens we are. “Frankie! We’re ready for the booze!”
“Be right there, hun!” he calls back as Noelle takes her seat again and I move around her to greet Amelia.
“Hey, babe.” I kiss her on the cheek as she stands and pushes her glasses up her nose, her curly blonde hair tickling my nose as I lean in to give her a hug as well.
“Charlotte. You look stressed,” she says when we part and I take a seat across from her, settling into the cushioned chair.
“When am I not stressed? Sundays are supposed to be relaxing, but my mother made sure to ruin that idea before I’ve even had breakfast.” I reach for one of the menus behind the corral of condiments, debating if I should try something new this morning. I’m usually a creature of habit, but emotional eating is my forte, and I definitely deserve some carbs after the week I’ve had.
