“Two years is the goal,” I say, as patiently as I can. “I won’t make it if I go on a date Saturday night, will I?”
“Isn’t it close enough?” Vera asks, in a tone of voice that means I think you’re being ridiculous.
I take a deep breath. Vera and I have had this argument before. We know one another’s positions on my single-and-celibate-by-choice state, and I know I’m not going to change her mind this time, either.
Vera thinks that being thirty and choosing not to date is crazy as a shithouse rat, though she’d never use that phrase. She’s excruciatingly old-fashioned in some ways, from a time and place where a woman’s worth stemmed from the man she was with.
For Vera, it’s unimaginable that I actually like being single, so I think she assumes I’m lying about it and must be longing for a man to come in and sweep me off my feet.
I am not.
“I’d like to go alone,” I say.
Simple, direct, firm, yet polite. My therapist would break into applause if she heard. I hold my breath, hoping that it was polite enough and not too direct.
I’ve heard rumors of families where people can just tell others what they want and their wishes are respected instead of debated. Sounds nice, but I believe it about as much as I believe in unicorns.
Vera and Ava look at each other.
They frown, both brows gently wrinkling in an almost-identical pattern.
Then Ava sighs and grabs her iPad, and I wonder what those other families are like.
“Okay,” she says after a moment, flicking her finger along the screen to scroll. “Donald Craw. Jeffrey Preen.”
“Ava,” I say, closing my eyes and willing myself patience.
“Andrew Haulier — oh no, wait, apparently it’s complicated with him.”
My eyes snap back open.
“Are you going through my high school graduating class on Facebook?” I ask, staring at my little sister.
“Cory McGarvey,” she says, ignoring me and tilting her head, still looking at the screen. “He’s kinda cute?”
I take a deep breath and glance around the room, trying to give myself a moment. Off to one side of me, in front of a plush leather armchair, is a triple mirror featuring a tall pink column topped with curly orange hair.
Of course Ava’s bridal seamstress makes house calls. For the amount Vera and my dad are paying for this wedding, you can’t expect the bridal party to go somewhere and slightly inconvenience themselves, for goodness’ sake.
I glare at the hottie in the mirror. She glares back.
I whisper a serenity prayer to myself, though admittedly I start it with for fuck’s sake, please.
This is exactly why I asked Beau to attend my little sister’s wedding with me. We’re friends, so I’m happy to spend several hours at an open bar with him. He’s single, so no one would going to get mad. And he’s gay, so it wouldn’t get awkward.
It was perfect.
Damn those squirrels.
“Norward Yapp,” Ava goes on. “You went to school with someone named Norward?”
“I think he went by his middle —”
“Oh!”
Vera and I look over at her in unison. I don’t like that Oh!.
“Did you know Seth Loveless is single?” Ava asks us.
My heart thumps clumsily in my chest. My stomach tap dances. I think all the blood in my body rushes to my head, and I’m pretty sure time has slowed down and I can now hear oxygen molecules bonking together.
Yes, I know Seth Loveless is single.
Seth Loveless is always single, because he’d much rather sleep with every girl in a fifty-mile radius than be tied to just one. Nice of him not to cheat, I guess.
“Is he?” I say, forcing myself to sound more casual than flip flops at a Jimmy Buffet concert.
“That’s perfect,” Vera says.
Does she… know? That Seth is the town bicycle and everyone’s taken a ride?
“No,” I say without thinking.
Vera stands up and walks toward me. Even though I think she got up at five this morning, she’s immaculate in well-fitted khaki pants, a white button-down shirt, and a black cardigan, not to mention that her hair is done and her face is on.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I say, like my heart rate didn’t just double. “We dated in high school, you know.”
Ava shoots me a withering no duh look as Vera lifts an elbow-length faux-fur cape from a hanger on a clothes rack, inspects it, then walks toward me.
“You know, I ran into him at the market a few weeks ago and we chatted a bit,” she says, holding it out to me. “He’s a very nice young man. Handsome, too. He asked me to say hello to you for him.”
She doesn’t know. There’s no way that Vera’s aware of Seth’s reputation.
“Thanks,” I say.
Sometimes, despite a lifetime of etiquette training, I still don’t know what response a situation requires of me. For example, going to a wedding with Seth is literally the worst idea either of you have ever had in your lives isn’t on the table.
“If you see him again, tell him I also say hi?” I hazard.
“Do you mind trying this on again? I know you already did, but it’ll give me peace of mind,” she says, holding out the half-cape.
“Have you even seen Seth since you broke up?” Ava asks, still looking at her iPad.
Then her eyebrows go up.
“Oh, wow, Mom. You weren’t kidding. Does he look like this in real life?” she goes on.
Somehow, more blood rushes to my head. My face in the mirrors goes pink. Redhead problem #4501: blushing way too easily.
“He’s very good looking,” Vera says.
“I haven’t really seen him, no,” I lie, swooping the cape around my shoulders and hoping we can stop talking about how hot Seth is. “Just around town and stuff. Here and there. Nothing major.”
I’m over-explaining, but only because I think telling Vera the truth might cause me to spontaneously combust, so I’m lying my face off.
I also blush more. How? How is that even possible?
“You two could catch up,” Vera says, closing the clasp at my neck for me, then smoothing her hands down my arms. “I always thought you were a sweet couple.”
“We were teenagers,” I object.
“So? Plenty of people marry their high school sweethearts,” Vera points out.
“I did,” says the seamstress, gently straightening the cape behind me. “When Mack and I started dating, I was fourteen and he was sixteen.”
“See?” Vera says, stepping back.
“Michael and I were high school sweethearts,” Olivia says from somewhere behind me.
“Delilah, go with Seth!” Ava gushes. “It would be so sweet.”
There’s a feeling in my chest like my heart’s in a tin can and someone just dropped it. Clonkthump. Squish. I take a deep breath.
“I’d rather celebrate your special day with friends and family instead of awkwardly catching up with some guy I haven’t seen in, what, eight years?” I say.
That’s right, I pulled out the big guns: special day.
Ava makes a face and keeps scrolling the iPad.
“Please?” I ask.
“I wish you’d give this some consideration,” Vera says. “I’d hate for you to be the only one there with no date and no one to dance with all night.”