Page 23 of The Yes Factor

“Come on, let’s go!” Bex snaps. “The traffic is gonna be insane. And it’s too hot to be stuck on the freeway.”

“Don’t you want to stay and talk to him longer? He seems really nice. I mean like genuinely cool. He has impeccable taste.” Is Bex blind? Why am I pleading the case for what seems like her perfect match?

“No, let’s just go. I’m tired.” She keeps walking straight ahead, not even looking at me, or back at Devon, a note of irritation creeping in to her voice.

“Hey, so what were y’all talking about before I got there?”

“Liv, do you have sun stroke or something? I said we need to go.”

“Okay, fine.” I decide not to press it any further, doing my best to keep up with her quick pace. I wish I could tell her that I only have her best interests at heart. I guess everyone is allowed to be a bitch every once in a while, I think to myself, perhaps too harshly.

Chapter Seven

Sunday Kind of Stupid

BEX

“You know what?” Liv says just as I put my key into the ignition. “Sorry, but I need to make a quick run to the loo. The churros are starting to rumble.” She cringes.

I audibly groan. Liv has a finicky stomach and I know that traffic will go from bad to worse because Liv can’t be rushed in the bathroom.

“First of all, I told you to be careful with this market food. Second of all, it’s called a bathroom, not a ‘loo.’ There were Port-a-Pottys right by the exit. Why didn’t you go when we went by there?” I take the keys out of the ignition.

“First of all,” Liv says, mocking me, “what’s wrong with market food? It’s Pasadena, for God’s sake. Second of all, no, I’m not using a Port-a-Potty. I’ll be back in five.” She throws her purse over her shoulder and hops out of the car.

“You’ll be back in twenty, but it’s fine. I’ll wait here. Catch the news on the radio,” I yell as she slams the door a little too hard. She’s always done that, and it’s always gotten on my nerves. Why can’t she close the door gently for once?

In reality, I’m glad for a few minutes alone with my reeling thoughts. I feel frazzled, frustrated, and intrigued by Devon. I don’t even know how to process what happened there, and I don’t want to talk about it with Liv because she’d probably march me back to ask him out. Plus, I’m not even sure he was really into me. He seemed so friendly and he did do that whole hand-on-the-knee thing…But, am I reading too much into it? Maybe he was angling for a sale.

Still, I think there was something there. Even that sweet old man saw something between us. And with sixty years of marriage, it’s not like he doesn’t know a thing or two about relationships.

When Devon talked about uncovering a hidden treasure, I felt it in my soul. Even now, my chest tightens just thinking about it. But in the midst of the moment, I acted like a dumbstruck teenager—talking too fast, or not talking at all, trying to impress him with my babbling. I forgot to ask for his business card so I could at least get his last name and Internet stalk him. Did I even say bye? Hashtag F-M-L. At least I know he lives in Sierra Madre, so that narrows it down from the Greater Los Angeles area. I shake my head in irritation. Maybe Maddie and I could drive out there for dinner one night, or every night, just in the off chance we might bump into each other.

The fact that I got a second chance with Devon and messed it up again is beyond discouraging. I had the opportunity to redeem my mistaken swipe with a real-life encounter, and I still fucked it up! I toss my head back against the headrest and groan. Ugh.

I don’t know why I got so flustered when Liv joined us. I panicked because I was afraid she’d crank up into crazy matchmaker and ruin the magic. Which she did. She almost asked him if he was dating anyone! I could have died right there. She came to LA guns blazing on a mission for me to find love. She’ll definitely take The Yes Factor to a nuclear level if she gets even a whiff of pheromones in the air.

In my fear, I bailed…not even bothering to say a decent goodbye to someone who’s probably the coolest, and hottest, man I’ve met since my divorce.

I could kick myself.

Instead, I pick up my phone and search for The Pasadena Society Estate Sale just in case there’s one more weekend I don’t know about or maybe a directory of stall merchants. Nope. This is it, the last one of the season. It won’t start up again until next spring.

“Dammit!” I cry out and slap the steering wheel. Liv’s timing sucks. If she hadn’t come over at that particular moment, maybe I would have harnessed the courage to believe, to be sure of what I was feeling, to make some kind of move to see Devon again. But why didn’t he ask for my number? The old man told him I was “a keeper.” Liv really shattered the moment.

This is her fault, not mine. Liv can be so controlling. Waltzing into my life like she knows how to fix it. How would she even know? We haven’t seen each other in what feels like years. She acts like all I need to do is wear a push-up bra, go on Tinder, and voilà! I’ll find my dream man.

I shouldn’t have expected it to be any different though. Liv’s always been this way. A Fixer. A fixer who loves to focus on other people but not on herself. She’ll even try to fix things that don’t need to be fixed. Like that time she fixed my perfectly good haircut, which then looked so bad I had to spend another seventy-five dollars at the salon to fix her fix!

I’m starting to wonder what it is that’s wrong with her. We’ve both been so isolated in our own worlds that I have no idea what’s going on in her life. All I know is that she came out here on a whim. Meanwhile, she’s hardly even said three words about Ethan or her life in London. I know about that dalliance with Francois, but she hasn’t said anything about it since our phone call. We should be spending time reconnecting with each other, not on this crazy dating scavenger hunt that’s giving me bad flashbacks to wondering whether or not someone’s going to ask me to prom.

Tears burn down my cheeks. I look into the rearview mirror to make sure I don’t have mascara smeared all over my face, to see that I don’t look like the hot mess that I feel like I am. I let out a big sigh, resigned to the truth of the matter. It wasn’t Liv who messed things up. It was me. Self-sabotaging again. I could have told Liv to just give me a minute. I could have been confident enough to ask Devon for his number. I could have mentioned to Devon that I meant to match with him on Tinder, and that this real-life encounter feels like a second chance. I’m a grown woman, dammit. If I didn’t make a move on Devon, it’s because I chickened out, nobody’s fault but my own.

Even so, I don’t want to say sorry to Liv. That would mean explaining the connection with Devon. How could I even begin to explain the unexplainable? Recounting the whole thing will just make me feel like even more of a failure. If I hear Liv’s Just Say Yes and You Gotta Get Out There lecture again, I might lose it once and for all. As much as I love Liv, she doesn’t have life figured out any better than I do. Hell, nobody does.

I wipe away my tears and accept the reality of the situation. This mission for love isn’t about me. It’s about her. Something serious must be going on and she’s not letting me in on it. Fine, I’ll play along until she wakes up to it herself. In the meantime, why not go on a few dates? I’m probably crazy to be obsessing about Devon after only one coffee. We weren’t even together for more than half an hour, max. But I can’t deny that it felt like we’d been talking for hours.

Feeling lighter with this newfound clarity—I always feel better after a cry—I turn on the radio. I gaze at the Pasadena hills rising in the distance, squinting my eyes in the direction of Sierra Madre. Despite myself, I can’t help but wonder what Devon’s house is like. He probably has a perfectly restored Craftsman house, with a garage that’s been converted into a wood shop.

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