Page 12 of Josh Dalton

He was the last person I thought would ever get married. He was a womanizer. I always believed he and I would be bachelors forever. Now he’s married and happy as fuck with Zoey. I can’t get Kim out of my mind, especially after last night. It’s not even possible.

“Yeah,” Dillon answers right away.

“Sometimes,” Brent replies.

“Why?” Dillon asks. “You thinking about giving up bachelorhood?”

“No,” I proclaim. “Just surprised about Ryder getting married, I guess.”

Before it gets any more uncomfortable, the game starts up again. My brothers forget about the subject, but I don’t. I’ve never wanted to settle down before. If I did, Kim would be my obvious choice. No, that’s stupid. I don’t want a relationship. Don’t need one, either. Just not for me.

Once the game is over, my brothers leave, and I have my peace back. Which isn’t a good thing, because now all I can think of is last night and the mistake I made. There is no way to fix it.

God. What an idiot.

CHAPTER TWELVE

KIM

Ignoring Mom’s calls doesn’t stop her. She’s persistent. The next thing you know, she ‘ll be showing up at my place. And that’s something I don’t want to happen.

I finally listen to some of her voicemails. She’s found the perfect guy and wants me to go out on a date with him. She’s done this before. The dates aren’t perfect, far from it. I tell her repeatedly, “No more.” Yet she continues to do it. The big problem is, the guys she sets me up with are her type, not mine.

And they think that since Mom is so easy, I am too. They get all handsy with me, and I end up sneaking off. She, in turn, gets mad at me forflaking out. Gawd.

It’s been a week since I woke up alone in the hotel room. Still can’t get over Josh leaving me that morning. I’m thinking I need to take a break from men; maybe permanently.

I text my mother back:Not interested.

She texts me:I’m in town. Lunch?

I really don’t want to. The woman drives me crazy. That’s the reason I’m trying to break all ties with her. It’s just hard, since she is my mother. She’s always scheming, and sometimes tries to involve me. The woman doesn’t have a motherly bone in her body.

As a kid, I wanted a mother who baked cookies and took me to the park. Not the one who worried about me gaining weight because I could make money modeling. She even became my manager. Good for her, bad for me.

Mom always wanted to be a model herself, but she got pregnant, and that ended any hope she ever had.Iended any hope she ever had of becoming a famous model. And she never lets me forget it.

Eventually, I quit modeling, mainly because of her. And then she disowned me. Until she needed something.

It’s been months since I’ve heard from her, and then she starts calling and keeps calling. I thought she was with husband number six. Or is it seven? I can’t remember, and it doesn’t matter. Something must have happened, though, because now she just won’t stop.

I stare at her message. I have a terrible urge to bite my nails. It’s my bad habit that my mother can’t stand; it’s my nervous tick.

I can do lunch, I reply, “but I won’t meet any men. Don’t try to set me up!!!

It’s a bad idea, but if I don’t meet with her, she’ll hound me to the ends of the earth. Going back in our relationship, I had to be the adult worrying about bills and groceries. My mother was the child who liked shiny things that caught her eye. But once she plays with something for so long, she grows bored and moves on to the next toy. That’s how she is with everything in her life.

Meet me at The Dearborn at one o’clock.

I didn’t even know she was in town. Mom prefers Los Angeles or New York if she’s in the States. I wonder what she wants. I refuse to give her any money. No way, no how.

I drop my head and sigh. At least we’re meeting at one of my favorite places. It’s a coincidence that she picked it. No, really. She doesn’t know any of my likes and dislikes. For the longest time, I didn’t know them either; I just went along and always agreed with her.

I consider not dressing up for the lunch date with Mom. Show up in full grunge. But I wouldn’t hear the end of it. So, I pick a dress that is semi-flattering and a comfortable pair of shoes. Take some time with my makeup. Get the hair just right. Then hit the road for a lunch date that I now wish I hadn’t agreed to.

I arrive on time and don’t need to search for my mother. She’s easy to find because she always chooses a table up front so everyone can see her. I notice she’s brought a date. He’s younger than her but still older than me, probably in his thirties. I wonder what she’s up to.

He’s a good-looking man, but he’s one of those who takes more time to get ready than I do. His brown hair is styled just right, and his clothes fit well enough. He no doubt works out. I stop before I reach the table. I shouldn’t judge him. My mother likes these types of men.

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