Chapter One

"Mom, I'm very tired tonight," I said over the phone while slamming the door to my apartment behind me. "I'm going to skip this family dinner."

As soon as the words left my mouth, my mother began her tirade. High-pitched protests strung all together into one catlike snarl came out, and none of them approved of me not arriving at her house in less than half an hour.

I didn't mind seeing my family, and my mom was one of the best cooks I knew, but it was the conversation, that inevitable one, I didn't look forward to.

"Okay, okay. I'll be there."

She hung up. Her job was done.

I hopped in the shower and then got dressed. My hair was still wet, so I threw it up in a bun and called it a day.

Once I arrived, my mom ran to the door and hugged me, like minutes ago she hadn't verbally assaulted me and my eardrums. "I'm glad you came."

"Well, you kind of forced me to," I commented and walked over to the couch where my dad and four brothers were yelling at the TV. "Hey, guys."

They all grunted their hellos and made room for me to join them. We watched the game until my mom yelled that the food was ready. When I entered the kitchen, I saw all my brothers' wives lined up, speaking in hushed tones.

"What?" I said as one of them eyed me.

"Nothing. We were hoping you would bring a date this time."

I rolled my eyes. "Can we please not start this conversation until I've had dinner. I'm starving, and that particular subject makes me nauseous."

That shut them up for a few minutes.

I came from a traditional family. Girls in the kitchen, boys watching football. I didn't like it one bit. Once I found a husband, I would want an equal partnership.

When I was younger, I rebelled against it all. I dated a ton, had loads of fun, traveled a bit. Explored.

But eventually, I realized that the place I wanted to be most was at home, reading, in my comfiest clothes, preferably with a coffee cup in my hand.

So I got a job as a barista.

My family talked about all their life updates while we ate. I was on the receiving end of some serious side-eye from my mom.

Pressuring me only made me want to stay single longer.

Sarah, one of my sisters-in-law, put her fork down. My chest constricted. "Monroe? What about you? Anything new in your life?"

I nodded. "Yeah, there's a new brown-sugar latte on the menu. It's delicious."

Everyone groaned.

"That's not really what I meant."

"I know. You really meant, am I dating, and when am I going to give up the books and simple life and get married already. Am I right?" I tried not to be mean, but it seeped right in despite my intentions.

"Well, yes. You're not getting any younger."

I sighed. "I am aware. I'm simply not in a hurry. It will happen if life wants it to happen."

Another sister-in-law, Emma chimed in. "But sometimes life needs a little encouragement. How are you going to meet someone when all you do is work at the coffee shop and hide in your apartment. You even get your groceries delivered, Mon."

I hated when they called me "Mon." Monroe wasn't so hard to say. Two syllables.

"What's the rush? Just because everyone else married young doesn't mean I have to. Is there something in it for all of you? Am I an embarrassment because I haven't found someone?"

This was the part I hated.

The food was excellent, but my stomach had gone sour.

My mom's fists were balled.

My father was silent.

My brothers stared at their plates.

My anger bubbled to the surface.

"Yes, honestly," my mom whispered. Some at the table gasped, but I had no clue why. I wasn't surprised by her words, only that she finally admitted the truth.

"You're ashamed of me because I'm not married?" I gripped the underside of the table, begging my voice not to falter.

Faltering would show weakness.

And I was bait in this den of lions.

"Yes. You are a beautiful young woman, but as Emma said, you're not getting any younger. It seems like there's something wrong. You don't date. You work that pathetic job. You read books. Those books aren't going to pay the bills or give me any grandchildren."

I pushed back from the table, disappointed in my brothers and my dad. I expected all of this from my mother. She'd been more discreet before, or perhaps simply passive aggressive, but she'd never come out and berated me like this.

"Thanks for the backup, guys. You too, Dad. I'm leaving."

"We'll see you next week," Mom said.

I turned and made sure I had her gaze before I spoke. "Don't be so sure."

While I gathered my things, she told the others that I was bluffing. That I would be back next week, but maybe her honesty had lit a fire under my ass.

It had. But not in the way it seemed.

The truth was, I wanted a husband. Wanted more than one, actually. Polyamory had become more acceptable, and something inside me let me know that it could be the way I wanted to live.

Maybe if I found someone, somehow, it would prove them all wrong and get them off my back.