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“You’re not actually supposed to have favorites, Grandma.”
My grandmother’s eyes twinkle. “I’m nearly ninety years old, Desmond. I can have whatever I please.”
Tension slips out of me as our conversation continues, the familiar sounds and smells of my grandmother’s kitchen settling over me like a comforting blanket. My grandmother moves slowly, though, and I notice that she needs to steady herself on the table and counters a little bit more than she used to.
Not for the first time, I’m angry at that property manager who stole from them. My grandparents refused to sue him, saying they were too old to be dragged through the court system. But now, they’re left with a bunch of run-down assets and very little cash to actually pay their bills. They’reold. I never thought I’d say it, because my grandparents have always been full of strength and vitality, but I can see the years weighing both of them down.
I have to fix it. I have to help. As much as Mia hates me for it, Ihadto up her rent to current market value. I have to hurry to fix it up so she can move back in and I can sell both condos on Seventh Avenue.
“Desmond, honey,” my grandmother says, placing her hand on my shoulder. “Stop frowning.”
“I was just thinking about everything I need to do to fix up the properties. I want to get them sold as fast as possible.”
“This is why you’re my favorite,” my grandmother says, pecking my cheek. She smooths my hair back and smiles at me. “I’d like to see you happy before I leave this earth, darling boy. Man or woman, if there’s someone you care about, bring them to meet the family this year. Do it for me.”
My throat grows tight.
Grandma arches a brow. “If that’s not enough motivation, do it to beat Vince in this year’s race. I can’tstandhis gloating, and I’m too slow to give you a chance.”
I bark out a laugh. “All right, Grandma.” I throw back the rest of my coffee and stand. “I’ll get started on the yard work. Holler if you need anything.”
“I’ll have some food ready for you when you finish.” She hobbles to the refrigerator, and I head outside to get to work.
That evening,as I enter my condo, I glance at the door across the hall.
The right thing to do is to tell Mia that I’m the man she’s been speaking to on Blind Date. But if I tell her, I’ll lose my chance at a date with her. After my conversation with my grandmother, the thought of Mia next to me at my family’s Thanksgiving is like a thorn under my skin. I want it so badly, I can hardly think of anything else.
Maybe if I explain everything when we’re at the restaurant, Mia will understand. The way I see it, the only chance I have of her hearing me out is when we’re not in our usual situation, our usual dynamic.
And, selfishly, Iwantto take her out to dinner. I want to treat her, spoil her, romance her. What if my only chance at a date is through this app? What if I blow it before it even begins?
It’s a risk, but as I cross the threshold, I make a decision: I’m going through with the date. It might be the only one I ever get, and I’m not losing that opportunity.
9
MIA
On Friday,after dropping Bailey at a friend’s house for a sleepover she was invited to last week, I head home and proceed to have a miniature panic attack. For some reason, this blind date feels different from my previous forays into dating as a single mom. Maybe because TallDarkandHandy and I have been speaking for weeks, while I used to try to get the first date out of the way as quickly as possible. I actuallylikethis man. There’s a hum in my blood, anticipation and fear and nerves all mixed into one.
It was the Netflix night, I realize. For him to take the time to calm me down after a nightmare means a lot. Maybe he even sensed that it wouldn’t be right to flirt too sexually, that even our talk of nighties and sweatpants was making my heart thump. This man has never met me—doesn’t even know my name—but he seems toknowme. He can sense my moods, my needs.
And that scares the ever-living crap out of me.
I’ve been alone for a long time. Colin leaving me ripped a hole in my heart—and my confidence—that I’m only now realizing never really healed right. I’m terrified that TallDarkandHandy is too good to be true. I’m afraid that even if we do have a physical spark and I’m willing to pursue him, he’ll turn his back on me too. Being abandoned once was hard enough; I don’t want to go through it again.
Thankfully, having a bevy of women take over my home and ply me with snacks and alcohol is enough to bring me back from the edge. With my new friends in my home, it doesn’t feel like I’m jumping off the edge of a cliff by going on this date. It feels like the stakes are much, much lower. I’m just meeting a man, having a meal, and seeing what happens. That, I can do.
“Okay, ladies,” Trina says, stepping into the living room like she’s Tan France and I’m some unfortunate, bedraggled sod nominated for Queer Eye: Heart’s Cove. “This is option one. Come on out, Mia.”
I hobble over on spike heels borrowed from Trina, wearing a black pencil skirt and a silky cream-colored top. It has a delicate cowl neck and fluttery sleeves. It’s pretty and feminine, sexy without being revealing.
“Hmm,” Fiona says.
I straighten. “‘Hmm?’ What does that mean?”
“It’s a bit…corporate,” Simone says, a glass of wine dangling between her fingertips. “Maybe it’s the pencil skirt. I feel like you’re about to call me into a boardroom for an interview.”
“It’s hot, though,” Candice adds. “But I agree. Not first-date material.”
