Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78108 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78108 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Rachel’s just laughing. Or maybe chortling. Whatever it is, she’s definitely doing it at me, not with me. “But you’re the dating expert. So now you have to help Mom figure out how to date!”
Across the street, a pack of yogis floods out of a studio and into the Pick Me Up coffee shop. With an aggrieved groan, I turn at the corner, then stop and lean against the bright green wall of the town library, where the scent of lavender wafts through the air. It smells so nice, it almost relaxes me. Almost. I’m still completely baffled.
“I don’t know who she is,” I say quietly to Rachel.
She pauses briefly, then asks, “Is that really what’s shocking you? Or is it that Mom’s enjoying dating and you’re not?”
Way to see inside my soul. I slump down against the wooden wall. “What am I doing, Rach? I’m in Darling Springs with this va-va-voom house and the guy I dated once upon a time and my mom asking us both for advice, and meanwhile, my dating life sucks. The last guy I went out with told me I was too old to ride his ride, and he was easily forty. And this is becoming my norm. It’s embarrassing. I have the worst luck with men. No wonder I’m a breakup-party planner.”
Rachel sighs sympathetically. “Is it really such a bad idea, then, to date with Mom?”
I don’t even know anymore. “But what about Dad? I don’t want to be disloyal to him. Hey, Pops. Your ex-wife is DTF, and I’m gonna help her get some.”
“I’m pretty sure Dad is doing just fine post-divorce,” Rachel reassures me. “He’s going to stop by later today. He told me he’s coming to the city to do some shopping, and he sounded great. But let’s talk about you, J. You haven’t had much luck dating in the city. Maybe this Darling Springs dating experiment is a good idea. Maybe you need a small-town guy to, I dunno, reset things.”
I shake my head, adamant. “I like the city. I like the hustle and bustle. I like my business. It’s a city business. I like all the people, and the opportunities, and the chances. I don’t want to find a guy here. This place is cute and adorable, but…”
“But what?” She’s gentle but insistent.
My gaze strays to Main Street. To the arcade. To the single-screen movie theater where Monroe and I went one night, laughing our way through the 1990s comedies of the retro movie marathon before we kissed as the credits rolled.
It was a kiss that melted me. A kiss I was sure was better than any silver-screen kiss.
A kiss that still makes my skin tingle.
I drag my gaze from the theater, but it lands on The Slippery Dipper just beyond. This town reminds me too much of one stupid week. One stupid, wonderful week I can’t forget. How can a one-week fling eight years ago stay with me like this?
Oh, right. Because it was with my co-worker.
Great decision, doing a podcast with him.
Darling Springs is a seductress. Its hip, modern, small-town energy will not seduce me again. “It’ll be fine. I don’t need a dating reset after all. I’ll just come up with a new dating plan in San Francisco. Join a new app or try a matchmaking service, even. Some of my clients have. I can get some good recs.”
“True. But maybe, hear me out, in Darling Springs, you’d get some fresh experience with different men there?”
Except what if nothing changes? What if I’m just bad at love?
The shop bell tinkles in the background, and she says apologetically, “I have to go. Think about it.”
“I will,” I say, then hang up and drop my head in my hands, downbeat again and hating being that way. Especially when everyone else is so upbeat. Mom has never seemed happier.
But what about Dad? Is he as good as Rachel says he is? As he says he is when I’ve talked to him? Fine, Mom and Dad said it was amicable. They said it was conscious uncoupling. But they’re not even supposed to know that term, let alone use it.
And what if it’s not? It might be rude for me to wingwoman my mom if my dad is hurting. Sure, he’s shopping, but what if he’s shopping for gratitude journals because he’s sad about his split?
I should help him. He needs me! I hit his name in my contacts, and he picks up immediately. “Hey, sweet pea. How’s everything?” He sounds rushed, but kind.
“I’m fantastic,” I say, putting on my best cheer. “I just haven’t chatted with you much and wanted to say hi.” He’s probably wandering the streets of San Francisco, hunting for a book of affirmations. I should send him one. Pop into the Darling Springs bookshop and grab one.