AllFreeNovel
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The truth is, we both know the real reason. The one I wasn’t willing to bring up.
It’s a wound I will not share with all of Coeur d’Alene.
Owen isn’t wounded. He’s a sweet little hottie who happens to be very eligible.
Yet he doesn’t date—ever.
See? Win. Win.
Two weeks later, I’m sitting in a booth at Elsie’s, reading the story I’ve launched. I’m calling it “The ONE Experiment.” I don’t explain that Owen is my best friend—just a willing participant. I tell how he will report and follow my advice and we’ll see where it all takes him. After a time, we may even be able to report if Owen’s foundthe one.
I retell the same information on my weekly podcast while sending a shoutout to Sad in Sandpoint.
Kicking it old school, I pretty much put a personal ad in the paper for my best friend—right next to my article. The ad reads:
Seeking a Soul Mate
Twenty-four-year-old, straight male—known for his straight-up goodness—is looking for someone to share his life with. Someone spirited and joyful. Someone who loves to laugh and play. Someone competitive, who looks for adventure and values hard work. Someone who loves life and family and who wants something real.
Seeking female between the age of 21-30.
Click on the link to fill out the form for Ask Annie to review.
*Participants should know and understand that this is for Ask Annie’s “The ONE Experiment,” and male participant will be going on multiple dates.
“Bah!” Grammy smacks the table with a fresh mug of coffee. “Theone. No such thing. You’re doing this to our Owen?”
“Grammy,” I yip. “How long have you been there?”
“I’ve been reading over your shoulder for five minutes. You didn’t hear me?” She sets one hand on her hip; the other tugs at my right earlobe.
“I didn’t.” I swallow.
“Owen is really doing this?” she says.
“He is.” And I feel the need to defend myself. “He deserves to find the right one, doesn’t he?”
She balks, throwing a hand my way.
“You don’t believe that one person is meant for another?”
She wrinkles her nose before taking the seat across from me. She shakes a finger, her eyes slits. “I believe in hard work. I believe in forgiveness. I believe in looking for the good.”
I give her a small smile, one that’s thoughtful. “Do you believe inlove?”
“Yes. But what is love without work, forgiveness, and positivity?”
I pull in a breath and blink over at my wise, semi-crazy, half-Italian grandmother. “Grammy, do you think there are people out there who are…unlovable?” I swallow, pull up my big girl pants and listen.
She thinks a minute, her wrinkled pointer tapping to her cheek. “Hitler. He had to be unlovable. Stalin.” Her lips cringe. “No one could truly love him.” She thinks and tilts her head a little. “Beau Sanders.”
“But Gram, they weren’t—wait,who? Beau who?”
“Beau Sanders, a boy I grew up with. Terrible human. He asked me to the junior prom and then never bothered to show up. Just left me standing there waiting.”
My hand finds my heart. “Oh, Grammy. I’m sorry.”
“Bah. He wasn’t worth my right pinky nail.”
