Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 129(@200wpm)___ 103(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Caroline Duval, daughter of Richard Duval, CEO of the Northfield Group, and Gran’s bridge partner’s granddaughter
27 years old, divorced, twice
Unemployed, last job three years ago as a receptionist in a plastic surgeon’s office
Dark hair, will be wearing a red dress, will meet you in the bar
A bit high-strung but just needs to meet the right man who knows how to handle her
I blow out a breath, close my eyes, and shove my phone back into my pocket, cursing my gran under my breath.
An unemployed, high-strung, trust fund baby with two marriages and two divorces on her resume
Just my type.
Chapter Two
Natalie
The waning June sun nips at the horizon in pink and orange through the slightly cracked windshield of my 1978 VW Bug.
I’m Facetiming with my younger sister, in our usual pre-crappy-date ritual.
“Your Thursday night free meal awaits. Aren’t you gonna be late?” Sasha looks back at me from the Facetime window. She’s got a filter on, so she’s got little fox ears and whiskers. My younger sister by one year points at her wrist. “How many Thursdays in a row is this?”
“Ten. I think. What’s the date again?”
I do my best to sound like I don’t know exactly what day it is, poking at my hair in the rear-view and lamenting that my signature red lipstick isn’t Gwen Stefani perfect.
As my stomach growls on cue. I try to calculate an answer to her question.
“Well, first streak was last December through third Thursday in March, then I took a two-week break after that one guy showed for our date with his mother.” I shake my head, popping my lips together twice before finishing. “Then, I picked back up first Thursday in April, and now it’s…what’s the date again?”
I twist up my face in thought, but Sasha doesn’t miss a beat.
“It’s June 9th! My wedding is in two days! You little monster. How do you not remember what day it is?” She lets out an exasperated exhale. “Anyway, so that’s…” She scribbles something on a piece of paper out of sight, then shakes her head on a smile. “Ten evenings of total masochism.” She glares at me. “If that’s what you’re after, girl. Betcha’d look fab in leather.”
I roll my eyes. “I gotta go. I scraped the bottom of the barrel with this guy. I was dateless until yesterday, so I threw out about thirty hooks on the eager-est looking MatchMe profiles. I snagged him and picked the restaurant. Go me, right?”
Why I pick guys I know are not my type—if I knew my type, that is—I’m not sure. Maybe I’m just a bitch, but I think that’s too easy. This is more complex, and I don’t have time for therapy. So, instead, I have Thursday dinners with men I have no interest in seeing twice.
“Okay. Be safe, big sis. You look beautiful, by the way. I don’t understand this game you’re playing with this whole thing, but I love you anyway. Can’t wait to see you. Wish you could head here sooner. The hotel is beautiful. The mountains…gah.”
“I know, sorry, couldn’t ask for more time off. I lose another job, Dad will have a heart attack and ruin your wedding.” I wiggle my torso as the uncomfortably tight crimson velvet dress does a number on flattening my boobs.
Sasha nods on a smile, but there’s a deep twist inside my stomach, stealing the warmth of the moment. I’m already on my last leg at this job.
“He’s arriving tonight, by the way,” Sasha says. “Then the only thing missing will be you.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Tell Dad I love him.”
“He knows, but I know he never tires of hearing it.”
Oh, Dad. He’s my rock.
When I was ten, he discovered Mom naked in bed with the next-door neighbor and his wife, but he was still willing to actually try to work things out.
My mother’s response was to empty the bank accounts, hire the best divorce attorney she could, and proceed to get full custody of us, leaving him virtually destitute with the barest of visitation, before dragging us three states away.
He followed.
She’s a lovely lady. Also, not invited to Sasha’s wedding.
Thank God. No one needs that sort of discomfort.
That’s a different kind of discomfort than this skin-tight dress is delivering. It’s a size smaller than the smallest size I usually wear, but my butt looks cute and I’m a sucker for the clearance rack.
“Better get going. Boredom and free food await.”
She sighs, resting her chin on her fist. “Dad’s too hard on you.”
“Says the straight-A since birth, perfect daughter, who is marrying a doctor and having a destination wedding at a five-star hotel.”
Her eyes soften and I regret my jab immediately.
“Sorry, uncalled-for and retracted. I should go, I wanna down an attitude adjuster before he gets here.”
She blows me a kiss on the screen. “Message me if you need an SOS.”