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JENN
The next weekpasses in a blur of prep for the grand spa opening. We’re finalizing so many details, from catering to cocktails for the big launch party, to all the last everyday details for the business itself. I’m glued to my computer screen or racing around the city, but as stressful as it’s been, I’m riding high on excitement and adrenaline. I spent years at SNZ snoozing from the dull predictability, now I love not knowing what awaits me each work day.
Even if it is figuring out how to liaise three different PR reps all called Becky.
The one downside to my new, whistle-stop kind of life is that I’ve barely seen Austin all week. He’s been putting out fires and working long hours, too. Plus, obviously, stressing the hell out over every minor detail, although I have to say, I’m impressed he’s dialed back the micro-management so far. Yesterday, he only spent an hour agonizing over fonts for the first round of brochures, before finally agreeing with the ones we’d picked in the first place.
Progress.
But by the time Friday rolls around, I’m ready for date night. Or rather, I’m ready for what happens when date night is over, and I can tear the man’s clothes off and indulge all the dirty fantasies I’ve been playing in my mind. But first, I’m going to keep my hands to myself and meet the man’s friends: Seb is celebrating his birthday at the bar, so I pick out some sexy jeans and a low-cut top, shimmying around my bedroom in anticipation as I get ready.
And somewhere, picking up on her radar that I’ve felt a ping of confidence, my mother decides to call.
“Hi, Mom,” I say, in my attempt at a pleasant tone.
“Oh, hi, honey,” she says, sounding surprised. “I figured I’d go to voicemail. You’re too young to be staying in on a Friday night. You should be getting back out there. On the apps.”
“It’s early still,” I say, brushing on another coat of mascara. “I’m getting ready for a party.”
There’s a pause, in which she’s clearly disappointed my plans include a party and not a date. “Well, that’s nice, too. Maybe there will be some eligible men there.”
Just once, I want to get a dig in. “I’m sure there will be. But I’m not looking.”
“Jenn,” my mom says, sighing. “I know you think I’m an old-fashioned nag, but I’m really just thinking long-term. A mother wants her child to find partnership, to not be alone.”
The many ways that I have connection, community, and happiness are not valid to my mother. Millie says I should feel sorry for my mom, that she doesn’t understand how fulfilling those relationships can be. But at the moment, I only feel annoyance.
“Mom,” I say, patiently. “I’m not looking because I’m going to the party with the man I’m seeing. It’s his friend’s birthday.”
“Well!” my mom exclaims, with a complete one eighty in energy. “That’s wonderful, honey!”
I roll my eyes all the way up to the ceiling. Still, I can’t help but add, “Heiswonderful, thank you.”
“Of course,” she continues, “Just make sure you don’t come on too strong. That can seem desperate, you know, and no man finds that attractive.”
“Helpful, Mom,” I sigh. “Thanks.”
“A little mystery, that’s the key to keeping them hooked. And a separate bathroom!”
“Not exactly on the cards, with New York real estate,” I remind her. And as for the mystery…
Well, there’s my familiar pang of guilt that I haven’t come clean to Austin just yet about Other Jennifer. I’ve gotten pretty good at ignoring it this week. But that’s just because I don’t want to distract him from all the launch prep.
Just that. No other reason.
There’s a knock at the door, freeing me from this conversation with my mother.
“He’s here, Mom,” I say. “I’ve got to go.”
I open the door to Austin, who is dressed down in jeans and looking devastatingly hot. He’s got sexy stubble on his jaw, a souvenir from the late work nights.
“Hi,” I say, feeling a wild flip in my stomach just seeing him again.
“Hel-lo.” He looks me over admiringly, then pauses. “Everything okay? You look…”
“Like I just talked to my mom on the phone?” I finish, rolling my eyes. “Don’t worry—I won’t let her kill the night-off buzz. Just need a minute clear the passive aggression out of my system.”
Austin steps forward and wraps one hand around my waist, pulling me into him. I’m pressed into his chest, against the soft linen scent and the faint trace of cologne. He kisses me slowly, deep and sensual.
