Page 3 of Mismatched Mates

Mom had the boys tonight, and the house felt a little hollow without them, like its beating heart had been plucked from its chest. It creaked softly in the silence, echoing the emptiness I felt. I padded across the cool hardwood floor to the living room, sinking into the plush couch and pulling a soft throw over my legs.

“Because I’m like a fungus,” she said in a sing-songy voice. “I grow on people; by the time they realize it, it’s too late. Anyway, what kind of mistake? And how amused am I going to be by it?”

What a weirdly accurate self-characterization. “It’s about Jason,” I clarified.

“Ohhhh. I thought you were going to tell me something new.”

“I met up with him at Thicket & Thorn tonight.”

“Hmm.” I could almost see her lips, turned down in disapproval. “Same bar, same guy, same story. Who was it that said you can’t keep on doing the same thing and expect a different result?”

Ignoring her question, I clarified, “It wasn’t a date.”

A warning popped up, indicating I’d created a circular reference on my spreadsheet, throwing the numbers off. That’s what I got for overly multi-tasking. “Anyway, long story short, he wants to get back together, and?—”

“If you said yes,” she interrupted, “I’m disowning you.”

“ObviouslyI didn’t.” I triple checked my new formula before pressing enter. “But then he accused me of not having a plus-one to Luke and Victoria’s wedding, and I panicked.”

She let out an enormous cackle. “And what, you invented a boyfriend?”

“How did you know?!”

“Puh-lease. Because I’m me. And you’re… you.”

“I’m the first to champion a woman’s capacity to be happy by herself but it was so satisfying to tell him I’d found someone else—who’s taller, better-looking and generally superior in every way.”

The look on his face almost made the lie worthwhile, for all of five seconds, until I’d realized the enormity of what I’d done.

Because I didn’t, by any stretch of the imagination, have a boyfriend. Particularly not one who was taller, better-looking and generally superior. Although that was admittedly not a high bar.

To distract myself, I scanned the next column, referencing invoice after invoice. The roll of anger in my gut hadn’t abated; even the soothing array of data in a spreadsheet couldn’t mollify me.

I paused, surprised by the twinge of something in my chest. Not longing, exactly, but a sense of loss—because sometimes the hardest thing about a break-up was letting go of the plans you’d made together; the life you’d envisioned. I shook my head, banishing the thoughts.

“That’s not the worst part,” I admitted, steeling myself.

Heather let out another peal of laughter. “Oh my God. I should have made popcorn.”

Even when I loved her, I hated her. “So, um, after I told Jason I had a boyfriend, Luke overheard and came over to congratulate me and tell me that Victoria’s going to be so excited.”

“Ah. And you’ve been ever so gracious to Victoria. How ever will she return the favor?” Heather deadpanned.

“Oh shut it. This means that either I admit to them I was lying—and I would rather jump in a vat of acid—or I need to find a boyfriend ASAP.”

Heather’s giggles stopped as she contemplated my situation. “That’s not going to happen. Your only option is to tell him.”

How pathetic was it that I actually agreed with her on my almost non-existent chance of finding a boyfriend before the wedding?

“He’s probably told half the family by now.”

And the clan. A little ping of guilt blossomed. I didn’t like keeping secrets from Heather, but as a human, I couldn’t tell Heather that part.

“It’s so embarrassing.” I blew out a long breath. “In case it wasn’t clear, I called you because I was hoping you’d have an answer that doesn’t require me changing my name and moving to Seattle.”

“Seattle,” she mused. “Interesting choice.”

“A reminder that’s not actually an option.”

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