Page 14 of Going All In

My first instinct is to argue, but she’s not wrong. Clearly, I choose the wrong guys. For example, Maddox. My future stepbrother. And Jared. A man who has fucked me up in the head so badly I haven’t had the will to date in years.

“See if you can make it before Tuesday. I got tricked into having dinner with Maddox again, and I need to go on a date before then.”

* * *

“Anything?” I look at JJ hopefully from my office desk, where we’re both trying to multitask by eating lunch while working on reports.

She turns, looking up from the salad she’s eating. “Lots of things. Busy. Why?”

We’re both insanely busy this week. I feel bad for even bringing it up, but the clock is ticking. “A date for me? Tonight?”

She spears a tomato with her fork and holds it in the air an inch from her mouth. “Nothing yet. Let me check again.” She chews her bite while she picks up her phone and scrolls. “It’s looking promising for Thursday. Nothing tonight. Why? You need something to do?”

I pick at my own lunch, tuna salad on wheat bread. “I’m supposed to have dinner with Maddox. Looking for an excuse to get out of it.”

JJ spins around in her desk chair and points at me with her fork, a cucumber dangling precariously from the tines. “Do not stand someone up because you found something better. I don’t care if you don’t like him that way. You’re better than that.”

I look down at my sandwich, abashed. JJ’s moral compass has always pointed straight north, if you don’t count sleeping around. She’s right. If I stood someone up, she’d never let me hear the end of it. “You’re right. I just… it’s easier to avoid him.”

Because like it or not, my body responds to him. I can’t sit across from him at dinner without thinking of how he played my body like an instrument, coaxing climax after climax out of me.

But I can’t date my future stepbrother. I can’t be an embarrassment to my family the way I was with Jared. I need to find a man that will come to this wedding, say the right things, and maybe not cheat on me at the reception.

The bar is low here.

Maddox is still sending me a text every morning—just a simplegood morningorhave a good dayorhope you slept well. It seems innocent, but I’m sure it’s completely calculated to get under my skin. And it has. The worst part is that I’ve started looking forward to the messages, even though I know I shouldn’t.

Not that I’d let him know that, of course. I don’t even respond.

JJ swivels back towards her desk and flips a page in the folder she’s reading through. “Where are you going for dinner?”

It occurs to me that I don’t know. I’m going to have to text him to find out. I roll my eyes as I type out the message.

Maddox

Where are we having dinner tonight?

If you need to cancel, that’s ok.

I’d never cancel on you. Text me your address. I’ll pick you up at 6.

Why?

Because we’re going to South Philly, and you don’t want to be murdered, do you?

Leave it to Maddox to play into my fears. Maybe I shouldn’t have told him just how many true crime podcasts I listen to. I really need to stop watching so much Law and Order, too. It’s gotten to the point where I’m just waiting for the day I’m abducted or murdered. Or both. I’m sure that there are plenty of areas of South Philadelphia that are perfectly safe. But he has a point, which is that I would definitely not choose to go there by myself when it’s dark out.

I text him the address of our apartment building and turn back to my sandwich, flipping through files. The next folder holds a case file for a child who’s newly in the system. I swallow a bite as a lump grows in my throat, the way it always does. Life isn’t fair for these kids at all.

* * *

“How about this one?” JJ holds up another dress.

I cross my arms, wrinkling my nose. “I don’t even think I need a dress. It’s not a date.”

JJ shrugs, walking out of my bedroom with the two outfits she brought from her closet. I love her willingness to share her clothes, and God knows I’m going to need some good outfits for my upcomingactualdates.

But if I’m going to South Philly, I’m wearing jeans. It’s freezing out, and no way in hell am I wearing a skirt.

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