Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 111732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
I don’t have a Facebook account, so I called my mother immediately. No answer. I asked my cousin, one of the well-wishers blowing up my phone, to send me a screenshot. And when he did, I lost my fucking shit. What the fuck, Mom?
I tried Mom again.
No answer.
So, I called my brother and woke him up. When Auggie saw the post, he laughed and laughed, despite his grogginess. He figured Mom had pulled a prank on me, as she’s been known to do. But that wasn’t a prank if you ask me, because it wasn’t the slightest bit funny.
As I take the exit off the freeway for Henry’s house, I’m still cursing my mother out. I can’t believe I have to take valuable time out of a Monday morning to drive to her boyfriend’s house across town to demand she take the post down. Doesn’t Mom realize the partnership selection committee meeting is in a matter of weeks? I told her about that, so she should understand that every billable hour counts right now. For fuck’s sake, this is the home stretch.
As I turn onto Henry’s street, my phone screen, which is on display on my car’s dashboard, lights up with a text from my father.
Saw the news about your engagement. Call me immediately to discuss.
I roll my eyes and mutter, “Fuck you, Dad.” Even in the midst of my panic and anger, I can’t deny I’m enjoying the idea that Dad thinks he’s this out of the loop in my life. Even if it’s only for this morning, I guess it’s not the worst thing in the world to let him think I’ve met the great love of my life—a single mother with a cute kid—and didn’t even bother to tell him I’d asked her to marry me.
As I pull into Henry’s driveway, the display on my dashboard lights up with another text—this one from the last person I’d ever want to see my mother’s bizarre post. My immediate boss at the law firm, Scott Wagner. His text reads:
Congratulations on your engagement! That’s one adorable kid. I’m thrilled and thoroughly impressed you’ve decided to take on the role of husband and father, all at once. Come down to my office ASAP, so I can congratulate you in person.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I shout. “Thanks, Mom.”
I don’t think Scott is Facebook friends with Mom. But come to think of it, his wife knows Mom somehow, so she probably saw the post and told her husband about it. Fucking hell. This fiasco just keeps getting worse and worse.
I barrel out of my car and sprint to Henry’s porch like a man possessed and then bang on his door like I’m trying to wake the dead. When nobody answers within two seconds, I ring the doorbell repeatedly. Until finally, the door swings open and Marnie appears, scowling at me. Her red hair is tousled. She’s wearing pajama bottoms and a white tank top that does little to hide the exquisite shape of her breasts and hard nipples—the latter being the result of the cold morning air that’s suddenly blasting her, no doubt. She looks just-rolled-out-of-bed sultry to me. Or at least, she would, if I weren’t otherwise preoccupied by the need to strangle my mother.
“Is my mom still here?” I bark out. “She’s not answering my calls or texts.”
Marnie opens the door wider, inviting me inside. “Is everything okay?”
“No, it’s not. But it will be.” I stride into the house with Marnie. As we walk, she groans and touches her forehead like she’s got a headache. “Rough night?” I ask.
Marnie nods. “Thanks to your hard-partying mother. We drank too much wine last night and passed out on the couch together.”
“Well, that explains everything.” I enter the living room and find my mother asleep on the couch. “Mom,” I bark. “Wake up.”
Mom’s eyes jolt open. “What’s wrong?”
Even if there weren’t two empty wine bottles and goblets on the coffee table, I’d instantly know Mom was hungover. It’s a rare occurrence; she rarely drinks. But give the woman more than two glasses of wine, and she always looks like this the next day.
“Is Auggie okay?” Mom asks, sitting up.
“He’s fine. He’s not the son you fucked over with your stupid little drunken prank last night.”
Mom looks genuinely baffled.
“Your Facebook post,” I spit out angrily. “You know, the one where you told the world I’m engaged to Marnie?”
Understanding washes over Mom’s face. “Oh yeah.” Mom glances at Marnie and snickers. “Your father congratulated you about that this morning?”
“Yeah, Dad and fifty other people. My phone’s been blowing up all morning with congratulatory voicemails and texts. I need you to take it down now, Mom. Even my boss has seen it.”
“What?” Mom says, turning pale. “How?”
“That’s how social media works. When you post something for the whole world to see, then, surprise, the whole world sees it. Now I have to go back to work and explain to my boss I’m not actually engaged, but instead, I’ve got a mother with a truly bizarre sense of humor.”