Page 7 of More Than a Good Friend

Coming tonight is helping me understand why Goldie’s upset. Twenty years ago, the very first time Goldie invited me over for dinner, I quickly figured out I’d be welcomed as a friend. Nothing more. I should’ve stuck with that.

Girls like her don’t fall for guys like me. Some bridges aren’t meant to be crossed. And I can’t say I’ve ever really thought about Goldie romantically. Why think about how the apple will taste if the tree is off-limits?

Mr. Flores nods a greeting as we walk inside. “Lina, did you tell her?”

Goldie whips around and faces her mom. “Tell me what?”

Mrs. Flores rolls her eyes. “Don’t be loud. It’s nothing. Just that Perla is joining us.”

Goldie huffs. “You set me up? On my birthday?”

I’m clearly missing something, but seeing my friend irritated has my fingers itching.

Mrs. Flores leans in close to Goldie but doesn’t bother whispering. “You are thirty-five. The clock is ticking.”

Goldie’s shoulders tense, so I press a hand to her back. “You okay?”

She glances up, tears brimming in her eyes. After a heavy sigh, she breathes out, “I shouldn’t have come.”

I turn her to face me and swipe at a tear on her cheek. “Tell me what to do.”

Without answering, she pulls away from me and follows after her mom and dad as the hostess leads them to a table.

If I don’t know what to do, how can I help? “Why is your mom setting you up with Perla?”

Goldie shakes her head. “She isn’t. It’s Perla’s son. And let’s just say that if he showed up in my dating app, I’d swipe left.”

“What ifIshowed up in your app?”

“Just don’t, Dag.” She sets her purse in a chair. “I’m going to run to the ladies’ room.”

I stand near the table, acting like I’m not watching Mr. & Mrs. Flores quietly arguing. This would be a good time for others to arrive.

On cue, Goldie’s brother and family walk inside. Ricky has always been nice to me, and today is no exception. “Dag, good to see you. Happy birthday.”

“Thanks, but we’re here to celebrate Goldie.”

He nods, then looks down at his daughter who is tugging on his pant leg. “What, sweetheart?”

“Where do I sit, Daddy?”

As he glances around the table, an old guy and a really old lady approach.

Mrs. Flores points to the chair next to Goldie’s purse. “Ronaldo, you sit there.”

“Next to me.” I shift the purse over so that I’m sitting between Goldie and the old guy.

That earns me daggers from Mrs. Flores, but Ricky and Mr. Flores are biting back laughs. Maybe I didn’t mess this one up.

I drape an arm around Goldie’s chair and make eye contact with Ricky.

He nudges his daughter toward this end of the table. “Do you want to sit by Aunt Goldie?”

She nods and runs over.

Only seeing these kids once or twice a year makes it hard to remember their names, but whatever her name is, I’m liking her today. Goldie is protected from both sides now. Who’s going to ask a kid to move?

But Ronaldo doesn’t seem to care that he isn’t sitting beside Goldie. He’s too busy fishing the ice out of his water and dropping it into his mom’s glass. Too many more ice cubes and the water will spill over the edge.

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