Chapter Five

Evie

“He literally said ‘checkmate.’”

“Weren’t you the one who served him papers?” Julie asked.

Julie’s hair was pink with blue streaks today. Her tattoos were from shoulder to wrist and her piercings were too many to count. She was an up-and-coming photographer, who worked part-time as an assistant manager at Grinder to supplement her income until her career took off. She was also Evie’s ride or die.

The two had met when their kids were in diapers at Fam Jam, an organization for new parents. They immediately bonded over being the only single parents in a herd of happily married mommies. Whereas Evie had been single by circumstance, Julie had gone the route of a sperm donor.

The two immediately jelled and began supporting each other through the trials and limitations that came with single parenting. Swapping babysitting hours, recipes, and forming their own carpool crew. Then Amber came around, another single mother, and joined their carpool crew—although they were never besties like their kids, they were neighborly.

It was at one of Evie’s garden parties that Evie had introduced Amber to her neighbor, Jonah, and the rest was history. Within months the two had fallen in love and married, and shortly on their heels Julie met her soulmate and tied the knot, leaving Evie a little bit of the odd girl out. But two years ago everything changed.

“I didn’t serve him,” Evie defended over the whirl of the steamer. Julie was making a latte while Evie was placing fresh bagel balls on a tray to serve to the customers, the hot vapors sending her curls into corkscrews. “I simply handed him an invitation to the next board meeting.”

“It looked like official business to me. You had that look.”

“What look?”

“That chick energy you get whenever you’re around him. Like you want to eat him alive.”

Julie took the latte from Evie and with a toothpick made a chain of three hearts. Sheesh, being married had turned her once cynical friend into an ooey-gooey, Team Cupid, hopeless romantic.

“Or kill him slowly.”

Julie lifted a challenging brow. “Hey, if you’re into that, who am I to judge.” She looked around the shop, which was busier than usual, and shouted over the chatter of morning greetings, “Adam. Latte for Adam.”

“He actually collected every rotten pomegranate off the ground and placed them on my front porch. In a gift basket. All wrapped up with cellophane and a matching pomegranate-red bow.”

“So his love language is presents. Sexy.”

Evie picked up the next cup, read the order, and began making an extra-dry cappuccino. “He did it to rile me up.”

Julie hip-checked Evie. “Well, it worked. You sure seemed hot and bothered by the sexy single dad next door.”

“Not hot, just bothered.” In the most annoying of ways. “If you had rats in your walls you’d be lighting houses on fire in retaliation. And why are we still talking about him?”

“You’re the one who can’t seem to drop it. Talking about his fruit.”

Evie felt her shoulders slump. “They gave him six weeks to do what he should have done a year ago, which means his front yard will look like a dumping ground during my mom’s birthday party.”

Julie stopped what she was doing to meet Evie’s gaze. “Oh honey, I am so sorry. I know how hard you’ve worked on that party.”

“It was going to be a garden party. Everything I’ve planned is for a garden party. I can’t fit that many people in my house. The Beautification Board barely fits.”

“We can fix this,” Julie said with excitement. “We can line the walkway with pretty white tents and twinkle lights hanging from them. Make garlands from Gerber daisies. Then rent some of those silly white curtains to hang between your fence and his, like Kristen Bell did at her wedding.”

“I don’t have the time for garlands or Kristen Bell’s budget. I barely have time to study for my placement exam.” Another thing she was doing in secret. She didn’t want to get too excited in case something came up—like life. But of course Julie had ferreted it out of her.

“So you’re going to do it?” Julie wrapped her arms around Evie from the back but Evie was too busy prepping herself for Julie’s reaction when Evie admitted she was a coward.

“I think so,” she said and panic wove its way up her chest, strangling her lungs with an insurmountable pressure.

She had one week to send in her response, which she would. She just had to decide if it would be “starting school in the fall” or “defer until next year.” She wasn’t sure how long it was going to take her to turn her dad’s shop around but finishing her business degree had always been important to her. It was just one of the many dreams she’d lost sight of when she’d become a single mom.

She could almost feel the pride she’d have when she hung that diploma on the wall. It would make her the first person in her family to graduate college. Her parents had sacrificed a lot to send Evie to school. That she’d dropped out two years in had been a huge disappointment—to them all. With a degree under her belt she could help her parents’ shop and then, maybe, even open her own professional organizing company—be her own boss of her own business. One she dreamed of.

“No more thinking or you’ll think yourself right into a no.”

After going over the shop’s books, Evie was more than halfway there. A no didn’t have to be a door shut, it could just be a to be continued. Only she’d had sixteen years of to be continued. And wasn’t it time she did something for herself?

Then she pictured her father at breakfast that morning. Too tired from his treatment to even make it to the table. He said he’d try to come into the shop around lunchtime, but Evie wasn’t holding her breath. In fact, she’d rather have him home, resting.

Lenard was so upbeat and sunny he shined. He was the reason Grinder had been such a success for so many years. He created unwavering loyalty from the moment he opened his mouth. People loved Lenard and Lenard loved people.

“Hey!” Julie snapped her fingers in front of Evie’s face. “I see what you’re doing, and stop it.”

“He couldn’t even make it up the stairs last night without losing his breath. I feel like it’s getting worse.”

“He just started treatment a few months ago. Give it time to work. Plus, your dad is as stubborn as you. He isn’t going to let a little thing like his kidneys hold him back.”

“I just wish mine had been a match.” Because then all the worry and stress would be nonexistent. Lenard would be healthy, Moira would be happy, and Camila wouldn’t have to worry that she might lose her grandpa sooner than any kid should.

“They’ll find him a match. He’s still young and otherwise healthy.”

All Evie could do was nod. She set the order on the counter, called out the owner’s name, and then went right into making the next order, glad to have something to do other than cry.

“Now, back to Jonah,” Julie said. “I heard he showed up looking like a sexy lumberjack with his bicep tattoo and shaggy beard.”

“Sexy isn’t the word I’d use.”

Julie smiled knowingly. “What word would you use?”

Delectable. Delicious. Dangerous for your wellbeing. “A dick head.”

“Are you sure this isn’t just the residual effects of Mateo Exposure?”

“Mateo Exposure is no joke. It’s a serious affliction with long-lasting symptoms.”

“Clearly. I mean when was the last time you had an orgasm?” Julie asked. Evie went to open her mouth and Julie shushed her. “I mean a man-made orgasm.”

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had orgasm-worthy sex. Mateo wasn’t the most patient of lovers. That should’ve been red flag number one. Evie already had a hard time getting out of her head and into the moment. It didn’t help when your partner asked, “Are you there yet?” two minutes in. Then there was the white stick that changed everything. Who knew that two little pink lines could cause the man who claimed he wanted to marry you to burn rubber out of your life?

It wasn’t that she hadn’t had sex over the years. Okay, she could count the number of lovers she’d had on one hand and still have fingers left over. But raising a kid solo didn’t leave a lot of room for dating.

Julie slapped a hand to her forehead. “Oh my God. You’ve never had an orgasm.”

“I’ve had an orgasm.”

“One that didn’t include batteries?”

Evie remained tight-lipped on the subject.

“How did I not know this?” Julie covered her mouth with her hands. “This is even worse than I thought.”

“Can you keep it down? I don’t want the entire shop knowing just how pathetic my sex life is.”

“Pathetic by choice.”

“Single by choice,” she corrected. “There’s a difference. And I don’t have time for dating. I’m barely keeping my head above water.”

“Then maybe it’s time you allowed yourself to go under for a few minutes. What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“I could drown?” Lose her family’s shop. Miss her dad’s appointments. Take her eye off the ball when it comes to Camila. The list went on.

“Who knows? Maybe a hot, young lifeguard would be there to give you mouth-to-mouth.”

“I don’t want a lifeguard, especially a young one. That’s more my mom’s MO.”

“Then what do you want?” Julie rested a hip on the counter and pulled her phone from her apron pocket and started scrolling through her inbox. “Hypothetically speaking, of course. If the perfect man were to walk into this shop, who would he be?”

Evie hadn’t even had a moment’s peace to think about what she wanted in a partner. She hadn’t gone into her twenties thinking she’d wind up alone. In fact, late at night, when the house was quiet and the world was asleep, she let her mind wander, wondering what it would be like to have a life partner. Someone who took the time to understand her and accept her for who she was. Someone she could rely on and share the workload and joyous moments with—and the shitty ones.

Maybe it was because she’d had a long day, or that the worry over her dad’s health felt like an albatross, but hypotheticals felt like a fun distraction. “Okay,” she said, handing a complimentary bagel ball to the next customer in line, her “Grinder” tee dusted with flour. “If I were to accept a date from a man, he’d have to be kind, funny, reliable, know his way around a kitchen.”

“And the bedroom?”

“For sure the bedroom. My monthly battery budget is insane. And it would be nice to put on some silk and lace for someone other than myself.” She laughed. “He’d have to be gentle, but all man and funny.”

“You already said funny.”

“Because it’s important. If he can’t laugh at himself or the chaos of life, there’s no way he’ll fit into mine.”

“Anything else? Brunette, blond? Bad boy or boy next door? Charming or swagger?”

“Aren’t they the same thing?”

“No, charming comes from confidence. Swagger is closer to cocky but in a good way.”

The man who came to mind had both charm and swagger and had this whole bad-boy-next-door vibe about him, in his own rumpled, lackadaisical ways. Evie gave herself a mental shake.

Thatman didn’t even own a razor—there was no way he could give her what she needed. And at this point in her life, an orgasm was the only thing on the table.

“Neither. I want sweet and romantic, the kind of man who would meet a stranger in a coffee shop and bring a single red rose. Or talk about bouquets of freshly sharpened pencils.”

Julie rolled her eyes. “You mean, like Tom Hanks in You’ve Got Mail.”

“Joe Fox is a role model for single men everywhere. Successful, driven, loyal, good with kids—”

“A liar.”

“That’s just a trope of the rom-com genre. And it was more of a mistaken identity than a lie, another trope. Oh, did I mention funny—”

“Twice.”

“Loyal and”—since this was just a hypothetical, what was the harm in asking the dating gods to deliver—“a man who can give a woman an orgasm. Like a blow my mind, take me to another galaxy orgasm. But I don’t think one like that exists.”

“Is that a challenge to the Universe?” Julie asked.

Now that she thought about it, a date with a nice guy wouldn’t be so bad. Getting all dolled up for someone else would be fun. Not that there was time for fun, but this was all hypothetical.

“I guess it is.”