Page 30 of Say Yes to the Hot Mess

Geraldine frowns. Blinks. Tilts her head to the left. To the right. Blinks again.

Then she looks at me and declares, “She looks like a toucan.”

I just sigh, shaking my head, and hope that the veryun-toucan-like woman who lives next to me will still be willing to be my wedding date.

Seven

Maya

I am not thrilledwhen Dex knocks on my door in the late afternoon.

What kind of person comes over without checking first? Who does that? What if I’m busy? What if I’m in my pajamas? At least give a girl enough of a heads up to put on a bra.

Besides, I brought him cookies just this morning, and he shut me down. What can he possibly want now?

“Hello,” I say stiffly, folding my arms across my chest and wincing. I badly need to pump or breastfeed.

Dex holds up a toolbox, metallic gray and clunky, and then he takes a big breath and smiles. “I’m here to fix your dryer.” His throat bobs as he swallows, and then he adds, “And also to tell you that I’d like to take you up on your offer to be my date, if it still stands.”

I arch one eyebrow at him, suddenly fighting the urge to smirk. “Getting desperate, huh?”

“Very,” he says dryly. “My mother has enlisted my ex-girlfriend. Are you in or not?”

I heave an exaggerated sigh. “I don’t know. I might have made plans by now.”

“I doubt that,” he says, looking skeptical.

I scoff, putting my hands on my hips. “Why? For all you know, my social calendar could be completely booked. I might be the life of every party.”

He grins, and I have to admit it’s a good look on him; it makes his eyes sort of sparkle or something. “Are you? The life of every party, I mean?”

“Eh,” I say with a shrug. “In the past, maybe. I’m not much of a partier anymore.” When he gives me a questioning look, I jerk my chin over my shoulder. “Having a baby sort of forces you to grow up pretty quickly.”

“Ah,” he says, more seriously now. The look in his eye is speculative as he says, “Yes. I can see how that might be the case.”

There’s an awkward pause as we just look at each other—what are we even looking at?—and then he clears his throat and nods down at the tool box. “So?” he says. “Your dryer?”

“Oh,” I say quickly, jumping out of the way. “Right. Come in.”

Honestly, it’s not a great time—Ireallyneed to pump—but I’m not going to turn down his help. I need a dryer.

My mind mentally traces the path to the laundry room as we walk, trying to remember if there’s anything embarrassing we’re going to run into. The only thing I can think of is—

“Hang on,” I say, shuffling around him and blocking the door to the laundry room. “Give me just a second.”

I slip inside, closing the door and then scrambling to shove all of the dirty clothes, which are overflowing, back into the laundry basket. Naturally, because that’s just the way the universe works, an ugly bra and a pair of granny panties are right on top of the pile, so I do some rapid burying. I have to compact everything, pushing down and throwing my full weight into it, but I manage to contain the mess after a few seconds.

“Okay,” I say, yanking the door open. My voice is unflatteringly breathless, but oh well. I barge past him, the laundry basket clutched to my front, and call over my shoulder, “Go on in. I’ll be there in a minute.”

I make my way to my bedroom. My face contorts in silent discomfort as the laundry basket bumps against my chest. Engorgement is no joke. Archer is napping, or I would feed him. I guess I could just wake him up, though I hate to do that. Maybe I could pump really fast? It would be—

“Hey, Maya?”

I silently curse Dex for being so kind and thoughtful—and newly desperate for a date—that he just had to come overright this very secondand fix my broken dryer.

“Yes?” I say, my voice a little strangled as I set the laundry basket down.

“Can you come here for a sec?”

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