Page 35 of Love Expert

He stumbles inside, his brows furrowed over puzzled eyes. “What’s a Rico Swar-veh?”

“You. What’s up with touching her hair, anyway? That’s an invasion of her personal space.”

“It’s pretty.” He flashes a wide grin that spreads to the wrinkles fanning across his nose. “Plus, it smells good, too. Here.” He snatches up the remaining two fortune cookies and lobs mine across the room, nailing me square in the chest with it.

Exhaling a tired sigh, I peel it open and crack the cookie in half. Fisting both pieces, since I know Jeremy will want them, I unfold my tiny sheet of paper and purse my lips.

“Confucius says: He who has hope, has everything.”

Rolling my eyes, I glance across and watch Jeremy drop pieces of shattered cookie to the floor, only to sweep each morsel up again and shove them in his mouth.

“What does yours say?”

Chewing noisily, he pinches the paper between uncoordinated fingers. He frowns. He chews. Then, he thrusts his hand in my direction. “Says I’m talented.”

“Really?” I cross the room and take it from him. Turning it around, I read the line and grin. “The world will soon be ready to receive your talents. Jesus.” I meet his eyes. “What more talents must we witness? You’re already so accomplished.”

He grunts in the back of his throat, an ‘erdunno’ only a parent could translate around mashed cookie, then he flops onto the couch, un-pauses the movie, and resumes his diet of prawn chips and rice, one single grain at a time.

ROUND FIFTEEN

BILLY

A week after Maggie’s evening inside my home, I stand in front of my mirror and scowl at the dumb fuck staring back at me. Black slacks, white shirt, blue tie. I even combed my damn hair, and when I discovered my black leather shoes—Aria forgive me,my funeral shoes—in the back of my closet, dull, dusty, and scuffed, I pulled out a cloth and spat on them till they shone.

My shirt sits weird, and my tie squeezes my neck. My stomach flips with nerves, andwhere the hell is my love expert anyway? I thought winning the Magnolia Sava Package meant she’d be here to help me with this shit?

Scowling, I stalk to my bedroom window and glance across my shadowed front yard. Jeremy sits by the boundary garden lined with lavender, picking dead leaves from the bed and dropping them onmygrass.

He didn’t specifically say he was waiting for Maggie to get back from wherever the hell she is… but a dad knows.

Because I’m waiting, too.

Impatient, I snatch my phone off my bed and unlock the screen, then I tap her name and pretend it’s totally normal andnot at alla violation of her privacy to swipe her phone number from our computers down at the station instead of, say, simply asking for it.

Bringing the device to my ear, I come back to the window and observe my son during a rare moment where he’snotbouncing off the walls or breaking shit.

“Hello?” Maggie’s voice comes out rushed and panting. “Hi. Yes, I’m on my way.”

“Where the hell are you?”

“Getting into my car right now. I’ll be home in ten minutes, then I’ll help you get ready for your thing.”

“I don’t need your help. I’m already dressed, which means you’ve completely failed to deliver on this giant bullshit spectacle, Magnolia. And to think, you nagged and nagged and nagged me to accept the dumb date.”

“It’s not a dumb date!” She slams her door and starts the car. “It’s a fantastic date I worked my tail off to secure. This lovely lady lives in Barlespy. However, knowing you have a son to get home to, and spending two hours on the road are two hours you could be with him, she agreed to make the drive for your first date. What are you wearing?”

“White shirt, blue tie.”

“No.” The click, click, click of her blinkers comes through the line. “Put on a red tie. Or burgundy or something.”

“What?”

“Consider the color wheel, Wilbert! Red will enhance the green in your eyes.”

“Call me Wilbert one more fucking time, and I might?—”

Heaven help me, I might smack her ass.