Page 8 of The Great Dating Fake Off
“Hello, darlings,” Nella coos as she extends her arms for a triple embrace. “Eloise, you cut your bangs! And Alessia, I can’t remember the last time I saw you without your Knicks cap. Look at all that beautiful hair you’ve been hiding.”
“I did the braid crown,” El says proudly, stepping out of the hug to admire her handiwork. “Doesn’t she look fabulous?”
“Stunning,” Nella insists.
“Like a less murderous Daenerys Targaryen.” I cross my arms and lean a shoulder against the wall.
Alessia shoots me a quelling look. “Hilarious. I’m all for getting dressed up to catfish my family into thinking this is how I always look, but trust and believe I will be undoing these at the first whiff of a headache.” She bids her girlfriend a serene smile. “But thank you for making me look good.”
El shoots her a wink. “You could never look anything other than good, babe.”
Nella presses her hand to her heart. “You two are the sweetest.” Her head swivels my way with owlish efficiency. “That could be you, you know. If you’d get your head out of your tuchus and go out on a date once in a while.”
She’s not wrong. I haven’t dated since moving back to Great River. Longer than that, actually. The perky brunette I met a few days ago—Nora—pops into my mind, along with her great legs, party hat, and alluring eyes. Women in glasses are my weakness, and she was no exception. I got so swept up in her and her cute babbling that I forgot I don’t date.
I’d been on the verge of asking her out when our conversation was derailed by a giant black-haired man who barged into the bookstore, seemingly ready to burn it down.
It was for the best. I have no business dating, least of all right now with Nella always hovering. And when she’s not nearby, she has spies all over this town.
A phantom pain twinges in my chest. When my relationship with my ex-almost-fiancée Kelcey ended, it broke Nella’s heart. I was tormented enough over the breakup; having to manage Nella’s disappointment was almost unbearable. I thought I’d live to see another wedding and She was such a nice girl were constant refrains. I won’t give her false hope again. I refuse to introduce her to anyone else, let alone bring someone home, until I’m halfway down the aisle.
Not that I’ll ever make it down the aisle. Moving is the only constant in my career, and Kelcey made it clear that no woman would willingly uproot her life every year to follow me around. I sure as shit won’t ask one to again. Ever.
Luckily, I have a week away at this wedding to clear my head of the unexpected temptation that is Nora.
“Well,” I say, trying to deflect the conversation away from my life, “I think you should date.”
She blows out a dismissive breath before taking a sip of her marg. “I went on a lovely date last month to the theater with that man who loads my groceries at ShopRite. It’s high time you bring someone home.”
I scoff. Bring someone home? I have an eighty-year-old roommate. Even if I did date, what am I supposed to do? Invite a woman over and cuddle up on the plastic-covered Victorian couch while Nella lurks in the kitchen? Hard pass.
“Alessia, talk to our boy about dating, would you?” Nella grouses. “I’d like to see him settle down before I croak.”
Alessia chokes on a sip from her coffee thermos. “I will definitely talk to him about dating, Nella,” she sputters. “It’s a five-hour drive and it’s bound to come up.”
And on that note, I slip on the reading glasses I pretend I don’t need and pull up a live traffic map on my phone. “Every passing minute, the roads get more congested. Should we pack up the car?”
Alessia and Eloise exchange a loaded look for a full three seconds, communicating with widening eyes and curt nods. I swear Eloise mouths do it.
“Right, so…” Alessia edges toward the front door. “I have one quick thing to tell you before we hit the road, Seb—”
“Oh, I almost forgot!” Nella interrupts. “I packed you kids a cooler for the car. Roast beef sandwiches, deviled eggs, and leftover chocolate cake from the weekend.”
My stomach rumbles. If “home” had a flavor, it’d be Nella’s cooking.
“You spoil us too much,” I scold, pulling her into a side hug.
“It’s the least I can do after taking all your money at poker last week,” Nella quips over her shoulder as she starts for the kitchen. “You sure you don’t want a few frozies for the road?”
I snort. Frozen margaritas are Nella’s passion in life, second only to meddling. “Sounds very illegal.”
She shrugs, unbothered. “You’re not all driving.”
“Let me go stop her from making us a thermos of liquor,” I say as I shoo Alessia and Eloise along. “Go start the car.”
By the time I return with the cooler, my suitcase is gone, the door is open, and bright morning light floods the foyer, spilling over the travertine. The pleasant breeze that ruffles my hair as I step outside is almost enough to distract from the boxy pink Celebrations by El catering truck flashing hazard lights in the street.
Strange.
