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“No, he doesn’t.” I stir uneasily in my chair. Does everyone in the entire bed-and-breakfast know my story? How many people were in the dining and sitting area listening when I checked in? Why aren’t there any rocks around here when I need one?
Martha digs through her purse and pulls out a worn picture. She looks at it lovingly. “This is our son, Leroy.”
She leans over as her fingers dangle the picture in front of my face. It takes me a hot minute to realize she wants me to take it.
I hold it delicately with my thumb and index finger. Leroy’s balding with just a few tufts of hair on his shiny head. His smile is forced, showing crooked yellow teeth. There’s a stain on the ratty t-shirt that’s straining to cover his protruding belly. One hand is holding a video game controller. He looks disgruntled over having to stop playing his game for two seconds so someone could snap this picture.
Is this my future? The best I can do? Kill me now.
“He looks very nice,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Guess what?” Martha says with excitement.
Are we playing a game now? “What?”
“Hard to believe, but he’s single.” Both Martha and Ernest nod at me knowingly.
“That’s not so hard to believe.”
I bite my lip as I watch their sweet smiles fade. How could I let those words slip? Where are my manners? “I mean, because he’s obviously quite the catch.”
And he’s been caught eatingTwinkiestoo many times.
Encouraged, Martha snatches the photo from me, turns it over, and writes on the back of the picture.
Oh no. What have I done? This is what I get for trying to let them down easy. “Uh, I’m sure he’s wonderful, but I think Leroy might be a bit older than me. I’m only twenty-six.” Nausea spreads through my stomach. I think I might be sick. Someone please save me.
“Oh goodness, he’s only thirty-two. Hardly any age difference at all. Here’s his number. Give him a call. He’ll be thrilled. He’s easy to reach since he doesn’t work. The job market’s tough right now, you know? He’s home all day. It might take him a minute to answer.” Martha’s brows crease with worry. “He hates being disturbed during the middle of a video game, especially when he’s winning. You know how it is?”
I most certainly do not. “I don’t play video games.” Neither should a grown man. “I can’t take your prized picture. You keep it.” Trying to be polite here.
The picture dangles in front of my face again. This time I know she’s waiting for me to take it into my reluctant hands.
“Oh, don’t be silly. I have another copy at home. This one is especially for you.”
Lucky me. I suppose I don’t have a choice in the matter. “Lovely. Thank you. Does he live in your basement?”
Oh. That was mean. I shouldn’t have said that.
To my surprise, Martha and Ernest look at each other and giggle. “He does! How did you know? See, you two are perfect for each other. This is fate.”
I’m not friends with fate. Fate hates me.
A hand lands on my shoulder, giving me a jolt.
“Mr. and Mrs. Robertson, you two are the sweetest.”
It’s Slade. He takes the picture from my fingertips. “But Marin isn’t looking for a new relationship right now. It’s still a tender time for her. You understand, of course.”
They appear crestfallen. “We thought they’d be perfect for each other. After all, Leroy would never leave her.”
Yeah, because he’d lock me in the basement with him.
“I bet some lucky girl will come along and sweep him off his feet any day now. It just won’t be Marin.” Slade’s voice is filled with an apologetic tone.
Martha is clearly disappointed. “We’re so sorry, dear. It was worth a try. We couldn’t help but feel you two would be perfect together.”
Not sure if I should be flattered or offended.
