Page 79 of The Seemingly Impossible Love Life of Amanda Dean

“He means keep score,” Finny said to Mandy, and then turned back to Rafe. “We don’t need you. So you can still piss off.”

Rafe ignored him, set his beer on the table next to Mandy’s, and proceeded to the small chalkboard on the wall not far from the dartboard. He was also shorter than Finny and closer to Mandy’s height, forcing him to have to reach up just as shewould’ve had to in order to scrawl both of their names across the board. Well, he wroteMandyandKnobacross the top—which Mandy had come to learn meant “dick,” not the thing you turned to open a door, although they did have those in England too.

Finny went first. He stood at a line that had been marked on the wood floor, shook out his shoulders, and took aim, extending his arm back and forth a few times before he released the dart. “Sod it.” The dart missed the board but not by much, anchoring itself into the wall next to the number twenty on the board.

“Brilliant.” Rafe clapped and raised his beer before taking a drink.

“Wanker.” Finny pretended he was about to throw a dart at Rafe, but of course he didn’t. From the short time Mandy had gotten to know them, that was just how they were. They would tease each other and call each other names, but they were fiercely defensive if anyone else tried to do it. Finny took aim twice more, hitting the board—earning him thirty-two points. However that worked out, who knew. Darts was seemingly more complicated than Mandy had anticipated.

It was now her turn, and since she had never thrown a dart in her life, she wasn’t sure how hard to throw it. Unfortunately, her first attempt never even hit the board—or the wall for that matter—it almost did though.

“Blimey. There’s a chance for you, Finny boy,” Rafe said, practically spitting out his beer in the process.

“Beginners get a do-over.” Sophie pulled up a stool next to Rafe. “I’ve read it in the official rule book.”

Mandy was pretty sure this was a lie, but Rafe fancied Sophie—Finny’s words, not Mandy’s—so it was no surprise Rafe responded with, “I think I’ve read that too.” Followed by a wink.

“Whose side are you on?” Finny complained.

“Hers, obviously.” Rafe tipped his head toward Sophie.

Finny retrieved the dart and gave it back to Mandy for her do-over. When she tried again, she threw it too hard, and it sank into the wall with a thud.

“I take that back. I’m with her.” Rafe pointed to Mandy. “She’s terrifying.”

They all laughed, and Mandy threw her next two darts, earning her fifteen points.

About twenty minutes later—and with no end to the current match in sight since they were both shit—they abandoned the game to get more drinks.

“You’re saying they don’t have Jaffa Cakes in America?” Finny said. They had gotten on the discussion of the differences between Britain and the United States, and the conversation of course went straight to food.

“No, but we have Oreos.” They were both a chocolaty snack—one a cookie, the other a cake the size of a cookie (or what the Brits called a biscuit). Although there was also some contention about that too, whether a Jaffa Cake was a cake or a cookie—but Mandy wasn’t about to get into that. Both were chocolate, except one had fruity jelly and the other had cream in the middle. Mandy thought they were both delicious.

“Never heard of them. Must be tosh.” Finny cracked a knowing smile. He was on team Britain Is Better, so even if he did know what Oreos were—which likely he did—he wasn’t giving up that easy. “But on a more serious note, what do you miss the most?”

Mandy tapped her fingers on the dark wood bar top. “My family, mostly.”

Finny rolled his eyes. “Of course you do. But like what else?”

This one was easy. “Mexican food.”

“Now that’s what I’m talking about. Tell me more.” Finny was a total foodie. He loved to eat, and according to Rafe would drag him to the dodgiest places.

“My friend’s grandmother would make the best pozole. It’s basically this soup with meat and chilies and hominy, and then you put avocado and lime in it, and OMG, it’s so good. And then she makes these tortillas and this salsa. Oh, and her enchiladas are amazing, and when corn is at its peak, she makes elote…” Mandy’s mouth watered just thinking about it.

“So the ground beef tacos at Jose’s don’t cut it?” Finny kept a straight face for about two seconds before busting out laughing. It was pretty common knowledge that Britain was not the place for Mexican food, and the place he named was known to betheworst.

Mandy shook her head and laughed along with him, but what she didn’t want to do for the first time just thinking about Isa or Abuela was cry.

The bartender nodded his head in their direction, and Mandy held up four fingers and called out, “Four pints.” He acknowledged her with one sharp up and down of his head.

Mandy smiled to herself. Maybe she would actually be okay.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

April 2019

The pre-wedding photos werea complete wash—no pun intended. The new location was dry, as opposed to the last location Mandy’s parents had to retreat from, but when they all finally arrived, they had to immediately leave if they were going to make it in time for the ceremony. Now she was back in the limo—with Mom and Dad—but at least she was fully dressed at last. Well, mostly.

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