Page 56 of The Bad Girl List

A short video of his three-legged dog follows. Trevor’s voice sounds from off-camera. “Say hi to Dominique.” Tequila lets out a string of barks, her eyebrows doing a cute little dance, and the video ends. It makes my insides gooey.

There had been a moment outside the tattoo shop when I thought Trevor might kiss me. But the moment had stretched a little too long, and then Annika had texted, and I’d been glad of an excuse to break eye contact.

“Oh. My. God,” Annika says. “He just made his dog say hi to you. That guy needs a manual on dating. He’s been out of the game for way too long.”

I think it’s adorable, but I don’t say that. I hurriedly put the phone down. “I don’t think he’s looking to date.”

“Right. He’s heartbroken over his fiancée.” Annika sighs. “I’m not saying he doesn’t miss her, but Thomas and I saw you guys sitting on the back patio last night. We came out to get you guys for a game of pool, but let me tell you–neither of you looked like you wanted to be interrupted.”

I think back to last night with Trevor. For a while, it had seemed like the rest of the world had disappeared, like it was just the two of us.

Then Kevin had crashed our game of Twenty Questions. Trevor had acted jealous, especially when I tested the waters by proposing Kevin for number ten on my list. Why else would he have dragged me back into the bar to avoid Kevin, when we’d had our perfect spot outside?

Annika is still talking. “I think Trevor is ready to move on with his life, even if he’s not ready to admit it. Why else would he propose spending so much time with you? He’s obviously thinking about you. My God, he just made a dog video for you.”

Now it’s my turn to sigh. I like Trevor. A lot. But I have enough on my plate with unemployment and looming debt to set myself up for heartache. Yes, I’d had a great time with him last night, and yes, he’d gotten jealous over Kevin, but the way he’d withdrawn when he talked about Elle made me suspect he isn’t really available. I sigh again, not wanting to talk about him anymore right now.

“Are you sure I should do this at breakfast?” I say, getting back to the situation at hand. “Maybe I should wait until lunch when we all have a few wineries under our belts.”

“Puh-lease. Just play the free-dinner-at-a-fabulous-winery card. Free trumps a Groupon for Olive Garden any day of the week. Now get on out there and make me proud.”

I dig the Bad Girl List out of my purse. While Annika watches, I draw a line through number two on the list: lie to the aunties.

“Go get ‘em, girl,” she says.

She follows me out the door to the breakfast table. A chorus of good mornings greets us. The aunties are already gathered at the table, armed and ready for the second day of Passport tasting.

Today’s schedule is in the middle of the table, under the scrutiny of Auntie Dee and Auntie Helen. My mom is on her way over with a stack of pancakes.

“Dom,” she says as she sets down the plates, “I was thinking that after our trip, your dad and I will take you and Oliver out to our favorite dim sum restaurant to celebrate his promotion.”

I experience that familiar withering sensation in my stomach when I see her smile. I hate lying about Oliver, but the idea of seeing disappointment on her face for the rest of vacation makes me feel ill.

Annika shoves an elbow into my ribs, giving me a pointed look. “Or you guys can come to my restaurant on the wharf. I’ll hook you up with free wine.”

“Free wine?” That instantly has everyone’s attention.

“We can get free wine if we eat at your restaurant?” Auntie Dee asks.

“Only if I’m working, Mom,” Annika says. “And don’t go thinking you can come and park yourself in my section every Saturday to booze it up with Dad.”

Auntie Dee makes a face. “Dad and I only booze it up on Sunday. You know that, sweetie.”

“Whew.” Annika makes a dramatic sweep of her arms. “Then I’m in the clear since I don’t work Sundays.”

Everyone laughs at the easy banter. I marvel at my cousin’s ability to tell her mother, right to her face, not to come and eat at her restaurant. Maybe she’s onto something. If I was blunt like Annika more often, maybe life would be easier.

There’s a brief lull in the conversation while everyone helps themselves to pancakes.

“Hey, guys,” I say into the brief silence. “I have a proposal for a schedule change.”

All three aunties stop what they’re doing to look at me.

Auntie Helen says, “What sort of schedule change?”

Auntie Dee says, “You want to change today’s schedule?”

Mom says, “I already have the drive times worked out. There isn’t time to re-work the whole schedule.”

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