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All the shit we’re missing out on without her around.
I need to change the subject.
Clearing my throat, I say, “Margaux is soaring at her firm.”
“She’s really done well for herself, hasn’t she?”
“I’ve always been in awe of lawyers. My hours aren’t the best, but hers are way, way worse. Or used to be. The kind of stamina that requires—”
“Put it on speaker!” I hear Dad say in the background.
“Oh! Your father just walked in. Hang on, let me figure this out . . . ah, there we go.”
I roll my eyes. I’m fucking beat. I do not want to do this right now. But I’m my parents’ only surviving child, so I have to.
“Hi, Dad.”
“So how’d you leave it with Margaux?” he asks.
“We made plans to see each other again if that’s what you’re asking.”
“That’s wonderful news,” Mom says.
“What are y’all up to tonight?” I ask.
“Not much,” Mom continues. “We were waiting to hear from you. I’m so glad your date was a success.”
“What did you talk about?” Dad asks.
“A little bit of everything. Work. Travel. What we’ve been up to since we saw each other last.”
“Aw, honey, that’s great. What are you going to do for your next date? Is it this weekend?”
“Um. I. Well. I honestly don’t know—”
“You should see her again soon,” Dad says. “Why don’t y’all come to our place for a drink before dinner sometime?”
“Yes!” Mom gasps. “I’d love to see Margaux! Vera was showing me pictures, and she looks just as beautiful as she did when she was in high school.”
“I don’t date much, but even I know it’d be weird to bring a girl over to my parents’ house on the second date.”
“It wouldn’t be weird at all, honey,” Mom says. “Y’all are old friends. It’s not like we’ve never met Margaux before.”
“Exactly,” Dad adds. “I’ll shake up some martinis. It’ll be fun.”
I let out a breath. I want to say no. But just the thought of it makes me feel a stab of guilt.
Dad may want me to settle down to advance my career. Mom, though? She would love grandkids. She’d be a really great grandmother. I know she’d enjoy the hell out of it.
She’d also love the excitement and sense of purpose that comes with planning a wedding. Bridal and baby showers. Stuff she’ll never get to do for Lizzie.
My parents deserve excitement. Happiness.
I can give them those things. I know they’re not happy. Tonight Mom and Dad are at home, probably on the couch, probably with a drink in hand. Something short and strong. They’ve been waiting for my call.
Meanwhile, their friends cuddle newborn grandbabies and host engagement parties.
The world has moved on. It’s time we did too.
Which means I really shouldn’t be doing this weekend at Blue Mountain Farm with Greer. It’s a distraction—a temptation—I don’t need.
Even if she wasn’t Porg’s sister, she’s way too young to be thinking about marriage and kids. She’s busy taking the world of baked goods by storm. Having fun. As she should be at twenty-three.
She’s also drowning. A feeling I know all too well. I can’t back out of a trip she clearly needs. Not this late in the game.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t need the time away too.
So I’ll go to Blue Mountain with Greer. Enjoy the shit out of the weekend. A last hurrah of sorts with a good friend. Then I’ll stop being such a chickenshit and move on.
I’ll give an appropriate relationship with an appropriate woman a real shot.
“Okay,” I find myself saying to Mom and Dad. “I’ll see if Margaux is free.”
But no matter how hard I try, I can’t make myself text her when I get home.
@WSBathroom 5/14
The plot thickens: is our Erotic Einstein cheating on his baked goods babe? #doughno
@WSBathroom 5/14
The freak in the (spread)sheets was seen canoodling with a very pretty brunette at a local bar not far from uptown Charlotte. Word has it she’s a rising star in the legal world #WhatLikeItsHard?
@WSBathroom 5/14
We can’t help but wonder if and when Einstein is going to hang up his proverbial wandering pencil. Is Star Lawyer the one? Or is she just another notch on the Muffin Man’s bedpost?
Chapter Nine
GREER
Taking a deep breath, I push through the door to Drury Lane’s back room.
I immediately draw up short.
Hannah and Dustin are standing side by side at the stainless-steel counter. Dustin has an enormous pastry bag in his hand. He’s carefully inserting our signature cream cheese filling into a tray of muffins. Hannah, the hands on her hips still covered in oven mitts, isn’t smiling at him, but she isn’t yelling at him, either.
“Aren’t you proud of me?” Dustin asks. “I haven’t made one joke about the filling. Not one.”
Hannah rolls her eyes, but I can tell she’s charmed by the way her cheeks go pink. “Bravo. You’ve managed to not be a pervert for all of five seconds.”
