Page 35 of Dating Mr. Right A Collection
He presses his palms on the counter, his eyes intensely serious. “I think you already met her.”
“What are you talking about?”
He laughs and wipes the washcloth along the counter. “You met her a few years ago. Every time you come in here with Macy, you look at her like she’s the one you want to give flowers to, like she’s the one who deserves all the roses in the world, like she’s the one, like she’s the fucking one,” he says, emphasizing the last word.
I blink. I do? But inside, I’m wondering how did he nail it? Is it that obvious? I deny. “You’re crazy. I don’t want to give her flowers. We’re friends. Therefore, it’ll never work.”
Hello? Doesn’t he understand that I was cursed by a wicked witch?
Tommy shakes his head, laughing. “You young kids.”
I’m not that young. “I’m twenty-seven.”
“That’s young.”
“What are you saying I should do, O wise one?”
He drops the cloth, stares at me. “I’m saying that maybe you ought to get over your hatred of this holiday. And maybe you ought to get over all the reasons you’re not pursuing anything with the lovely blonde. Want to know why?”
“Tell me why.”
His eyes pin me with an intensity I rarely see in them. “Because she’s a sweetheart. A fun, great, kind, and caring woman. If you don’t see all that, trust me—another man will.”
I bristle, ten tons of annoyance landing on my shoulders. “How can you be so sure?”
He scoffs. “Some things you just know. Someone will appreciate her.” He reaches across the counter to poke me. “The question is—will it be you?”
I heave a sigh. “But what if it doesn’t work out?”
He answers with an eye roll. “What do you want to drink, kid?”
“Latte, please.”
He softens his tone as he sets to work on the beverage. “I know you think you’re full of bad luck or some such nonsense. But luck is what you make. So make your own luck. Let the woman know you’ve got it bad for her.”
His points are prodding at my skull, making me reflect on my own reluctance. Still, the obstacles seem too big. “And what about the fact that she’s best friends with my sister? What about the fact that we’re friends?”
He waves a hand dismissively. “Complications, whatever. You can sort it all out. In the old days, you know what the complications used to be? A soldier was going off to war and he wasn’t going to see his woman for four years. That was a motherfucking complication. You’ve got a minor problem.”
“I feel like that’s not really a fair analogy,” I say, deadpan-style.
“No, it’s not a fair analogy, and that’s my point. You don’t have a big problem. You have a little, itty-bitty, teeny problem, and little problems can be solved easily. Man up. Are you man enough to give the woman you want a latte with a heart on it?”
I shudder.
But somewhere inside, I know he’s asking the right questions.
And I need to find answers.
He slides me the latte he made for me, adding a heart.
I rein in my desire to roll my eyes.
I drink it, and as I do, I contemplate. I marinate. I wonder.
Fuck it.
I order two to go.
5
Macy
As I dust eye shadow on Ally’s lids, she hums a few lines from the song they’re recording shortly.
“Oh, I like that one,” I tell her. I take a step back and appraise my handiwork. “You look amazing when you’re made-up, but just the right amount of made-up.”
Ally smiles at me. “You always have to make sure I look like the quintessential good girl for the vids.”
I giggle in an over-the-top way, like her wholesomeness is the best-kept secret. “And we know you’re really not a good girl.”
“I’m good enough.” She trails off with a wink.
Kirby and Ally have been racking up YouTube views since they launched their brother-and-sister act a few years ago, singing sweet and lovely songs like “Amazing Grace” meets “Somewhere Over The Rainbow.” Beautiful, rich, heartfelt songs in the kind of duet style that makes everyone want to go full Glee.
I remove a lip liner from my makeup bag. “I love your good girl persona. And I know it’s mostly true. But then again, I know plenty of other secret details about you.”
“Like what?” She lifts a skeptical brow as I uncap the liner.
“Like how much you’re into Miller.”
Her jaw drops. “I’m not into Miller. We’re just best friends.”
I pretend to be taken aback. “What am I? Chopped liver?”
“Best guy friend,” she clarifies. “And I’m not into him like that.”
I outline her lips. “You were when you first met him. Don’t try to deny it.”
“I’m not denying it, but we made a decision to focus on the friendship. Sort of like you and Kirby.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “Your brother and I never made that decision. We fell into it.”
