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I shook my head. “Planning has done me no good. I’m going to give inertia a try.” I grabbed a Pop-Tart, adding with a cheeky grin, “And I’m going to eat carbs until my insides implode because I miss them and I don’t care if my ass gets big enough to qualify for its own zip code.”
Jaymee followed me, undeterred. “Fine by me. Guys like something to hold onto. However, before you face-first into that carb-a-pooloza, I need to tell you something.”
I perked up as I chewed. “Yeah? What?”
“I wanted to surprise you, but you’re making it ridiculously difficult to make that happen organically, so I’m just going to lay it on you now.” I frowned in confusion as I waited. Jaymee chewed her bottom lip as if apologetic, saying, “Do you remember Oliver Bishop?”
My chewing skidded to a halt, and half-eaten strawberry pastry threatened to congeal in my windpipe. I cleared the bite with difficulty and reached for my juice to wash it down. Oliver Bishop — the one who got away. Or, more specifically, the one I’d crushed on so hard all through college, but he never knew I existed. That Oliver Bishop? I’d never forget that man. Just saying his name in my head made my stomach flip flop weirdly. “Um, yeah, sure, sort of. I mean, kinda vaguely,” I lied through my teeth. “What about him?”
“He’s in town.”
Probably married to a supermodel with a little league team of perfect children.
I shrugged. “Oh? Did you run into him or something?”
“I don’t know if you remember this, but Oliver and Phillip used to be pretty close after college. They kept in touch, and Oliver mentioned he was going to be in town visiting his parents.”
“That’s nice,” I murmured, picturing how sweet Oliver probably was with his normal parents, unlike mine, who were weird personified, which probably meant I was also weird at some level.
“Yeah, and he also invited him to our Halloween party.”
Instantly the blood in my body took an elevator trip up to my head and then down to my toes. Oliver Bishop was going to be here, in this house tomorrow night? I reflexively took another bite of Pop-Tart. My gaze drifted down my body, taking in the stained yoga pants, faded athletic hoodie, and ragged bunny slippers, before lifting my gaze back to Jaymee. “He’s probably marr—“
Jaymee cut in. “Totally single.”
“How single?”
“As single as you can get without becoming a hermit and living off the grid.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“He’s spent the last couple of years focusing on his business, but it’s left him a little out of the loop as far as the dating scene. According to Phillip, he’s just as awkward as you, which makes him perfect.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said, holding up my hand. “Perfect for what?”
“I don’t know…rebounding?”
My nervous laugh was almost comical. “One does not rebound with Oliver Bishop,” I retorted. “He’s the kind of man you settle down with and have many babies with.” Did I say that out loud? The immediate burn in my cheeks said yes. “I’m just saying I don’t know what I’m saying, but I do know that I’m definitely not going to your party now.”
Jaymee’s asked, perplexed. “Why not?”
“Because I am not ready to see someone like Oliver. Not like this.” I gestured to my general state of being. “I’m a hot mess.”
“Well, I would suggest wearing something a little less ‘relaxed,’ but otherwise, I wouldn’t say you’re that much of a mess.” She bracketed her hips with a motherly scowl. “Besides, it’s time to reclaim your womanhood, get your groove back on, or find your inner Beyonce because you are too young to disappear from life.”
“I’m enjoying my solitude,” I said.
“You’re hiding.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
I sighed, leaning against the counter. I could tell by the stubborn set of Jaymee’s jaw that she wouldn’t stop until I gave in or at least gave her the impression that I was conceding. For the sake of saving my afternoon, I said, “If I say I’ll think about going to the party, will you stop nagging me about dating?”
Jaymee knew me well enough to know that I was placating her. In a move that was unlike her, she suddenly became serious, reaching for my hand and squeezing it tight. “I want you to be happy. I mean, really happy. Not that fake shit that Roger convinced you was real. Maybe it’s not Oliver Bishop, but you’ll never know unless you put yourself back out there. You deserve so much more than you’re settling for. I love you too much to let you.”
Then, she released my hand and announced she was going shopping for a costume, calling out for Phillip as she left the room.
