Page 9 of Sugar Baby Mine

Working my shifts back to back is nice because I need that structure for my day. But today, Cora texts me at noon to let me know she’ll be picking me up when I’m finished working. Which means she has something planned. Which puts me on edge the rest of the day and makes me wish I was anywhere but here.

Deep down Iknowwhat it has to do with, because she never does anything in half measures. She’s all in, all the time. I just can’t let myself think too hard about it. So instead, I look at the clock or my phone every five minutes with the rest of the day crawling by unbearably slow.

Ten minutes to the hour, a horn honks from outside, making me glance out the front windows. I slip my apron over my head, peeking around the corner to Angela’s office in the back to let her know I’m leaving a smidge early today. She gives me a positive affirmation from where her head is ducked behind her laptop, her dark eyes peering over the rims of her glasses at me.

She waves me away with a flick of her fingers before pushing the wire frames up on the bridge of her slim nose. She smiles up at me, crinkling the edges of her eyes even further as she wishes me a good night.

Out front, Cora’s little red Volkswagen Beetle is vibrant in a sea of monochrome vehicles. She looks like a supermodel as she leans against the car, her red-bottom heels scraping the pavement as she flicks her heart-shaped sunglasses down as I approach.

“We’re having a spa day.”

Blinking, I look down at my phone before tucking it in my purse slung across my hip. “We have time for that? It’s already six.”

“Time doesn’t stop for anyone, babe. Get in,” Cora tosses over her shoulder as she saunters around the car. “You need a facial and a wax before Friday.”

It’s Tuesday.

“What’s Friday?”

Cora hums as we get in the car. Her nails drum against the steering wheel, a second of hesitation before she pulls into the road.

“Cora,” I try again, more pointedly as I click my seat belt into place with more force than necessary. “Whatis Friday?”

“Your first date with Ben.”

The sinking feeling from yesterday returns, and my head spins just a little. “Ben?”

“Freddy’s business partner. I told you about him, remember?”

I reel back, clenching my eyes closed to ignore the glances Cora is sending me when I’m silent for an overly long time.

“No, no, no—” I blurt out, sighing and sinking down in my seat. “You told me like three things, and that’s fucking it.”

Of course, I hadn’t asked either, throughout any of our conversation.

“Benjamin Reed,” she offers. “Ben.”

She shrugs, still driving calmly to our destination like I’m not having an existential crisis in the passenger seat.

I don’t quite know what to say, so I settle for picking the lint off my jeans to give my hands something to do that doesn’t include carving the skin out of my palms.

“I thought you decided you wanted this?” Cora asks, far gentler this time. “You asked for the money for the passport.”

“I did—” I sink further into the seat. “Ido. It’s just happening a lot sooner, like way, way sooner than I realized it would. It’s only been likea daysince we talked about this. I’m kind of freaking out, and I don’t know why.”

Except I know exactly why.

The eons of insecurity and scrutiny fueled by my mother still live within me, echoing with each breath I take. Despite the distance, despite the years, it still lives under my skin, programmed into my brain. It feels tenfold with the fact that thisman is my parents’ age and has probably lived nearly twice as long as I have. He’s not a dumb boy like Sam Paris. He owns a successful business with a partner who can absolutely spoil the fuck out my cousin.

“Do you want me to cancel?”

My heart thuds against my chest. My first instinct is to tell heryes, but I literally asked for this. Just because change is difficult for me—just because time is an illusion that moves so slow and fast all at once—doesn’t mean I don’tneedthis.

“No—I just—ready for—I’ll go.” I finally manage to get out in some semblance of a sentence.

Cora squeals and thrusts her hand out to squeeze my knee. I don’t miss the way the car jerks before she corrects it.

“Great, we’ve got work to do then. And it’s just a first meeting, babe. You don’t have to do anything other than have dinner with him. If you don’t vibe, then you don’t have to do anything else.”

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