It’s why I made Val pinky-swear she wouldn’t tell a soul before I admitted to her that I was crushing on a certain “hot British producer.”
She immediately laughed it off, telling me she already knew, of course.
Valentina knows everything.
I haven’t shown interest in anyone since Richard and I broke up nine years ago. Almost an entire decade. Not that there haven’t been any offers. I’ve been asked out a few times by teachers at the school I worked at and by a couple of soccer dads. I’ve even had the occasional failed setup attempt by one of my family members.
Valentina tries to convince me—once a month, like clockwork—to try online dating. She found her now-husband on one of those dating sites, and she’s determined it’s the answer to all my “man problems.”
I don’t want that, though.
I want serendipity. I don’t want to be set up by an algorithm. Though, I’m not saying the process doesn’t work. I’ve seen it firsthand with Val and Mark, co-workers, and even my brother Luca, who’s been dating the last girl he matched with for a few months now.
It’s just…not for me. I want kismet.
There are some things I won’t budge on.
I refuse to settle for weak coffee, store-bought marinara, and a love that doesn’t feel like my mom and dad’s.
Something Ryan West is starting to feel a lot like.
I need to go there tonight. I need to face him and deal with this before it gets too out of hand in my head.
Mind over matter.
Head over heart.
22
Carina
Despite assuring my mother that I won’t be too long at the meeting, she insists on Lina spending the night, promising to make her a lunch and get her off to school on time. If my mother wasn’t the type of grandmother that didn’t have an entire dresser full of clothing in both Lina’s and my niece’s sizes, I would have fought her harder on it.
The bedroom that used to be mine has been transformed into a bedroom solely for Lina and my niece Francesca. A twin bed sits against one wall and a smaller toddler bed is against the other.
Lina had brought her backpack to do homework, so there’s nothing stopping me from accepting the offer.
My mother’s grin as she says goodbye is suspicious, but it isn’t until she tells me to “make smart choices”—like she did when I was a teenager—that I know something is up. Not wanting to make a scene in front of Lina, I remind her that I always do and wave them goodbye as I climb into my Jeep.
The moment I’m out of the driveway and hear the ding from my phone, alerting me that my phone has connected to the Bluetooth, I tell my phone to, “Call Sister.”
“Hey, seester,” she answers after two rings.
“Did you tell Mom about Ryan?” I practically shout, gripping the steering wheel as I flip my directional on to indicate my upcoming turn off the road. As I wait for the traffic to break, I wave to Mrs. O’Sullivan—the adorable little Irish woman who, I swear, has lived in the very last house on my parents’ street since the beginning of time.
“I promise, I didn’t mean to,” she says. “I was picking up Francesca when you called earlier. She told me you had a business meeting and put it in air quotes. I couldn’t help but laugh.”
“Ugh.” I groan. “You had one job, Val. One fucking job.”
“Speaking of fucking,” my sister begins. “Are you going to get into Ryan’s knickers tonight?”
The last half of her sentence is said in the worst attempt at a British accent I’ve ever heard in my life. I tell her so, in an attempt to avoid answering a question I don’t have an answer to.
“Don’t you try to dodge this, Carina Marie,” she says. “I mean, come on, who else are you going to talk to about this? Archer?”
As much as I don’t want to admit it, she’s right.
Having a guy best friend is great for a lot of things. Figuring out whether or not you’re supposed to have sex with your boss—someone you’ve only known for two weeks—is not one of those things.
“Okay,” she continues. “Did you shave? Your legs? Your, you know…your kitty?”
“My kitty?” I laugh, quickly adding in, “But, yes and yes.”
“Oh my God. Carina!” The ear-piercing shriek from my speakers fills my car. “You are SO going to do it!”
“Well, I’m glad one of us is sure about this,” I mumble, pulling off my parents’ street after it feels like a lifetime of waiting. “I just pulled off Mom and Dad’s street. You have ten minutes to give me all your sisterly wisdom.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? I’ve been waiting my whole life for you to come to me and ask me for boy advice,” she says.
“What if I’m reading this all wrong, Val? What if I make a move and Ryan’s not interested? Then what?” I ask, voicing my worries right away.
“First of all, you’re not,” she starts. “I watched that boy check out your ass at Retro more times than I could count. And, everything else he’s done? He’s Prince bloody Charming.” Her awful British accent makes a brief comeback for emphasis. “And, if we’re both wrong—which we’re not—he’ll be flattered, you’ll boost his ego, and you’ll go back to business as usual. Why don’t you tell me what you’re really worried about, Carina?”
Exhaling, I pull onto the main road that the hotel is on.
“What if it is more? What do I do if—”
“Stop,” she commands, interrupting me. “You have spent the last ten years doing everything for everyone else. You’re a great mother, Carina. The best. But, don’t forget that you’re a woman, too. You’re allowed to have feelings for someone. You’re allowed to have sex with the hot British guy that can’t keep his eyes off your bum. And, if it’s just that, so fucking be it. You’re a mom, not a nun.”
“You know what?” A sudden onslaught of confidence building up as my sister, of all people, justifies every reason why I should stop hiding behind my fears. “I’m going to fuck my hot British boss tonight.”
23
Ryan
At six o’clock on the dot, there’s a small knock on the suite door. A jolt of excitement shoots through me as I jump off the chair to greet Carina. I didn’t think the track suit I had worn during our walk earlier was appropriate for a business meeting—even if it was in my hotel suite.
So, after I showered, I changed into slacks and a white dress shirt, rolling my sleeves up to my elbows as I tidied up the suite. As soon as I see her, I wish I remembered to pull my sleeves back down, but I am, at the very least, grateful I changed out of the track suit.
Her long legs, covered in dark denim, look even longer thanks to the black heels she’s wearing. A tight white blouse tucked into her jeans peeks out of the navy blue blazer she’s wearing. Her makeup is subtle, with the exception of the bright red shade on her lips.
Every time I see her, her newest look is my favorite version of her.