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But damn it, after going over to Mia’s house and feeling just how much she dislikes me, knowing she’ll never be mine no matter how much I want her, Vince’s taunting gets to me. It’s just a race, but I’ve never won it. I’ve been paired up with our grandmother every year just so she can participate. I should rise above Vince’s taunting, but Ican’t.
“Is that all you wanted? I’m busy, Vince.”
“Whoa, whoa!” Vince laughs. “No need to get crabby with me. Is there something more going on? Are you upset about the trophy, or are you still bitter about me and Caitlyn?”
I take a deep breath. This is a familiar pattern between me and Vince. He’s the baby of the family, and my aunt’s—his mother’s—favorite. In my childhood years, he was my biggest bully, but it was hard to convince anyone of it since he was four years younger and much smaller than I was. He tormented me, made me feel like an outsider in my adoptive family, then pursued my high school girlfriend just to prove that he could win her over. Then he did—and he married her.
“I haven’t been bitter about Caitlyn in twenty years, Vince.”
“Could’ve fooled me. Right, baby?” He hums. “Caitlyn agrees. She says this should all be water under the bridge by now.”
“I have to go.”
“See you at Thanksgiving. You and Grandma Maude make a great team. Always good to know who’s going to come in last place.”
Click.
I stare at the phone and fume. As I grip the device between my fingers so hard my knuckles turn white, I realize something: I don’t care about Caitlyn. I was telling the truth when I told Vince I’d moved on twenty years ago.
But Idocare about our stupid yearly three-legged race.
How crazy is that?
If Vince and Caitlyn win it four years in a row, I’ll never hear the end of it. The thought of putting up with Vince’s gloating for a whole other year…God, that makes my blood boil. I can’t let that happen.
Does it make me petty? Probably. Does it annoy me that Vince can still nettle me so easily? Hell, yes.
You know how much Vince riles me up? There’s a guy in town who kind of looks like him—same hair color, same build, similar features—and when I met him, I immediately disliked him. His name is Sebastian, and he’s dating one of my grandparents’ tenants, Georgia, who just opened an art gallery in one of their vacant commercial properties. He’s fine. He’s a nice guy. But I can’t look at him without feeling vaguely annoyed, because he reminds me of Vince. I even flirted with Georgia because I could tell it bothered him. That’s how much Vince irritates me. It’s completely irrational.
I’ll be damned if I show up to Thanksgiving without a date and end up being paired up with my grandmother again. I’mnotcoming in last place. I’m not watching Vince swan around with the trophy under his arm all weekend. I’m not listening to twenty more years of him gloating about this stupid race, his wife, and all the ways he’s better than me.
I’m bringing a date to Thanksgiving. I have ten weeks to find one, and she’s going to be lifting the Thomas Trophy above her head by my side.
Mia would be competitive enough to want to win.
The thought pops up, unbidden, and I smack it clean out of my head. Mia hates me. She’s not going to go to my family’s Thanksgiving reunion just so I can win some stupid race.
Enough messing around. The only woman who’s remotely interested in me is NaturalBlondie, and we haven’t even exchanged names. If I’m going to find a date, I might as well find out if she’s even an option. I open the Blind Date app and type a message.
TallDarkandHandy:Fun fact: Donald Duck’s middle name is Fauntleroy. What’s yours?
I stare at the message for a while, but no response comes from her—or from Mia.
WhereisMia? How long does it take to pack up a few things and drive across town?
Pacing my living room, I grab a set of keys off the hook and duck across the hall. The vacant condo is tidy, modern, and bright. I glance through kitchen cupboards to make sure Mia and Bailey will have everything they need, then duck over to my place to bring over some coffee, filters, milk, and sugar. The only breakfast foods I have are instant oatmeal and a couple of bananas, so I bring those over with a full gallon of milk.
Other than that, the condo is furnished. My grandparents had been renting it as a short-term rental through the property manager, who had skimmed almost all the profits from them. When they fired him, my grandparents bought all new furniture for the place before running the numbers and deciding it would actually be better to sell it.
Now, I have the job of getting this place ready for sale, along with mine across the hall. They’re mostly ready; my grandparents have no personal possessions, and all I’ve got is what was in my suitcases. The furniture can either go to the buyer or be sold/donated as quickly as possible.
My real estate agent told me to leave furniture and other items, in case people opened cupboards. It allows them to picture their life in the condo more easily. The beds are covered with brand-new sheets I bought for staging, and the kitchen is stocked with the basics. Mia and Bailey will be comfortable here—if they ever show up. Twenty minutes pass, and I still hear nothing from NaturalBlondie or from Mia.
Finally, I glance in the bathrooms and frown. There aren’t any towels. I duck across the hall and grab a few clean towels, hand towels, and washcloths, and set them down on the master bed.
The phone in my back pocket vibrates. It’s Mia, telling me she’s outside the building.Finally.
My heart feels like it’s being squeezed in a vise, and I grit my teeth to get a grip on myself. Then I buzz her into the building and head for the elevator. It takes forever for it to arrive, close, and go down to the ground floor. Finally, when the doors slide open to reveal the lobby, I get a glimpse of Mia and Bailey.
