Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 87629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
He continued with more of the same in college, where he played football again, majored in business, and landed an internship with Black Inc., under the tutelage of the blue-collar billionaire himself, Braden Black.
Now he’s climbing up the corporate ladder at lightning speed as he works in marketing with Braden’s brother, Ben Black.
And he still dates all the time. Well, anyone not me. I sigh.
Why would he want a bespectacled, no-makeup-wearing brunette with boring gray eyes? Plus, there’s the fact that he’s never dated a woman for more than three months. I’m not the commitment type, he always says. Perhaps it’s a good thing he’s never seen me as more than a friend. Do I really crave him enough to risk losing a lifetime best friend for only a few months of passion?
Sometimes, on particularly lonely nights, that answer is a hard yes.
Frankie babbles on and on. Engagement party, the bridesmaids’ luncheon, the shower and bachelorette parties, and of course the wedding itself.
“It’s not going to be a long engagement, Mandy. We both feel like we’ve wasted so much time with all our silly arguments and breakups. We want to get married right away. In three months or less.”
I can’t help gasping. “Three months?”
“Yeah, but we can do it. The ceremony will be at Penn’s parents’ house. You know how huge it is. It’s an absolute mansion. And you don’t have to worry about anything. You’re the maid of honor, but Isabella and Gigi will take care of all the details, my shower and everything. They love that kind of stuff.”
Good. That’s fine with me. Isabella and Gigi are social animals. I’m not. I could probably put together a shower—how difficult is it to serve cake and punch and watch Frankie open gifts?— but a bachelorette party? Bridesmaids’ luncheon? So not in my repertoire.
“That’s great.”
“Isn’t it? Gigi has so many social contacts. Everything will be top-notch.”
Top-notch. Great.
“I do need you to come with Isabella and Gigi and me to the gown fitting next week.”
“Sure.”
“I want all of you to be involved in choosing the dress you wear.”
“Great. That’s great, Frankie.”
Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck on repeat.
Then my phone buzzes with another call.
My heart pumps wildly when I see Jackson’s name.
“Frank? I’ve got another call. It’s…work.”
“Oh, sure, I understand. I’ll keep you in the loop, okay, Mandy?”
“Yeah. Please do.”
“Absolutely.”
“I’m really happy for you, Frank. Truly.” I do my best to sound sincere. I truly do want my sister happy.
“I know you are. Love you!”
I quickly end that call and take the other. “Hey, Jack.”
“Hey, my little Mandy Cake,” he says.
Mandy Cake. He’s called me that since we could both talk. Pancakes were Jackson’s favorite breakfast as a kid. His mom would make them in the shape of a bear, and his favorite bear was a panda. He called them pandy cakes, so I became Mandy Cake.
And I’m still Mandy Cake, which tells the truth of our relationship. He’ll never see me as anything other than that toddler in diapers who used to eat pandy cakes with him.
“I thought I’d come over and take you out to dinner,” Jackson continues.
That’s code for, I don’t have a date tonight.
Don’t get me wrong. I know Jack loves me as much as I love him. Just in a totally different way. In a “we’ve been friends forever” kind of way. And most days, I convince myself it’s enough.
“Sure, that’d be nice.”
“Dress up. There’s a new sushi place I want to try downtown.”
Jack and I love sushi. It’s our guilty pleasure whenever we’re together. “Sure.”
“Great. Pick you up in an hour?”
“I’ll be ready.”
As the line goes dead, I can’t help but feel the finality echo in my bones.
My sister is getting married…and I am going to be alone forever. Living for the occasional night Jack isn’t hooking up with his flavor of the month and wants to try a new restaurant with his dorky best friend.
And just like that, I realize I can either feel sorry for myself…
Or I can do something about it.
On impulse, I pull up the app store on my phone. I need to swallow my fear and put myself out there—and move the hell on from this unrequited hole I’ve been napping in since high school, for God’s sake. There are only about a thousand dating apps to choose from.
My hands shake as I type “lustr” into the search bar and pull up the app.
I create a profile quickly but then realize I don’t know what to do after that. Nothing about me is remotely interesting. And a photo? God help me.
Jackson. I’ll ask Jackson to help me. He’s always finding someone new to hook up with, so he’ll know exactly how to help me set up my profile to get the most action.
I smile. This will work out after all.
…
“Lustr?” Jackson shakes his head as he spears a piece of spicy tuna roll with his chopsticks. “Seriously, Mandy Cake?”