Page 50 of Owen Bailey Needs Advice

“Ah,” I scoff. “It wasn’t right, okay? Would you want me to be with someone when it wasn’t right?” And! I did not break that man’s heart.

“No. But nor would I have you break that sweet boy.”

I groan. “Geez, Gram. I’m not interested in Owen. But thanks for all of your love and faith.”

“You are interested. So, I’m giving you two choices: marry him up or leave him be.”

“S

he did not say that,” my sister croons into the phone.

I lift my feet onto my office desk and lean back in the chair I bought myself because my office chair was going to kill my back. Hmm… maybe I should buy Owen a chair.

“She did. She called me a man-eater and told me I could marry Owen or leave him alone. Like she was his protector or something.”

“Huh. All this time we thought you were Grammy’s favorite. Who knew it would end up being Owen?”

I giggle. “Truth.”

“So, which will it be? Marriage or ignore him for the rest of time?”

“Ha! Neither! She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” I open my laptop, ready to work, when a new email catches my eye. I see it because it isn’t new; it’s a reply. A reply from my friend Ready in Red. He must have seen my advice, and I’m not sure how he’s taking it.

“Except that she has loads of life experience and probably does know,” Kayla says.

“What?” I blink, my eyes having blurred over the email screen. “Oh, Grammy…”

“Steve,” Kayla barks loud and yet somehow sweet—scarysweet. “Put the pumpkin carving knife back. You don’t need that to eat your toast. You aren’tcarvingyour toast.”

“Maybe he is.”

“Shut up, Annie. I love you, but I have problems—ones I’m willing to admit to.”

“Hey, what does that mean?”

“Tim justhadto buy the boys pumpkin carving knives, and now Steve is pretty sure he needs to be carving something at all times. I caught him sawing off a chunk of his hair last night.”

“Yikes.”

“Yes, well, he informed me that it will go great with his Halloween costume. Zombie Steve Rogers.” She sighs, then, “Steve!”

“Okay. Bye. Bye,” I tell her.

Kayla’s boys are making me certain that I should never have kids. I don’t want to be in charge of anyone not sawing off their hair.

I turn back to my laptop with a hundred waiting emails inside and one that calls my name. I’m curious what my friend, Ready in Red, has to say about my advice. I’m surprised he’s messaged again. I hadn’t expected that. I open it up and read:

That’s it?

I need to do something about it… but what?

Any ideas from my favorite advice columnist?

I’m unsure if Ready in Red is being flirty or just complimentary. He’s telling me he’s in love… so I’m gonna go with the latter.

My mind rattles off half a dozen ideas, and rather than waiting, I email him right back.

Again, that’s up to you. What are you comfortable with? What kind of message do you want to send? But a few ideas off the top of my head…

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