Page 36 of The Fix-Up

Ali’s hand thumped on the table. “Ellie, I promise you we will find you the perfect non-jerk. He’ll be the non-jerk of your dreams.”

Warily, I lifted my head. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

“This is a great idea,” Ali crowed. “Give us ten dates.”

“Ten?” I shuddered. “No way. One.”

“Eight.” That was Mae, her game face set.

“One.”

“Oh, come on,” Ali said. “Okay. Six.”

“One.”

“Three,” Mae said in her no-nonsense librarian voice. It was effective. “Final offer.”

They glared at me, daring me to argue. I knew when I was beat. “Fine. Three dates. And that’s it.”

“Excellent.” Ali rubbed her hands together in a way that strongly resembled an evil scientist.

“Why do I feel like I’ve just signed my life away or something?”

Ali smiled. With a lot of teeth. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. You just made the best decision of your life.”

TWELVE

Love is nice things, like giving people a hug.

—AUSTIN W., AGE 5

From the text conversation of Ellie Sterns and her mother:

MOM:Good morning.

ELLIE:Hi mom.

MOM:I started my spring cleaning early. Do you know what I came across? That beautiful slipper you made for me a couple of years ago for Mother’s Day?

ELLIE:Yes, I remember.

MOM:Do you think you’ll be able to finish the matching slipper soon? It’s okay if you can’t. I know you’re busy and that’s why you could only finish one of them…

ELLIE:I promise I’ll get it finished soon. I promise.

MOM:How soon is soon?

Gil and I did a fantastic job of avoiding each other the first few days. He stayed out of my way; I stayed out of his.

Oh, don’t get me wrong. I still noticed the ten-foot canopy he added next to the tent under which he placed a cooler, a small barbecue, and a folding table. He strung up fairy lights around the canopy and stretched an extension cord from an outside plug on the house to his camp where he could charge his phone, a laptop, and one of those fancy coffeemakers that made one cup at a time.

He’d made himself right at home out there.

But there were signs he’d been in the house when we weren’t home—almond milk in the fridge, protein powder and oatmeal packets in his cupboard. (Yes, I peeked.) Sticky notes with questions were placed on the fridge so I was sure to see them. In fact, it was the only way we’d communicated with each other in three whole days. I approved.

On day three of his first week in the backyard, I drove home from work in a haze. Work had kicked my butt. Jorge had an existential crisis because we ran out of butter. Iris left an hour early for class. And me? Well, everything from my feet to my hair was exhausted. And let me tell you, exhausted hair is a sight to see.

Unfortunately, Oliver didn’t get the memo about the day I’d had. He was practically vibrating in his car seat. I think it was the class birthday party at the end of the school day; there had been cupcakes.

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