Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
“He’s busy. He has lots going on—a pudding empire to run. I think sometimes things slip through the cracks when people get so overwhelmed with work. He might just leave the decision-making to HR because it totally slipped his mind. But I’ll make sure it doesn’t. I’ll put it at the forefront. I would never say anything that would be me pressuring him to do you a favor. You deserve it. I just want to make sure it’s highlighted on the front page of his brain.”
“If I don’t go on this horrific blind date for you, would you still do that?”
Gen doesn’t even pause. “Of course.”
“Then what’s the motivation?” I don’t mean to laugh, but a giggle slips out. She smiles at me, too, not offended in the least.
“You’re my best friend, and you looooooove me and don’t want to see me unhappy for the rest of my life because I can’t grow a spine and tell anyone no until it’s too late?”
“Ugh, you need to tell your parents no.”
“I will. I promise. I’ll talk to them. I’ll tell them that they can’t do this again. I’ll tell them that this is my life. I’ll make my mom promise not to get ahead of herself again. That’s the main problem. She doesn’t see this as being some kind of terrible marriage. She sees it as being a matchmaker, and she’s sure we’ll be a good match based on—I’m not even sure—but she thinks it will all work out, and we’ll fall head over heels and have this amazing happy ending. I’ll make her see that I have to choose that for myself, and blind dates aren’t the way.”
“Okay.”
“Okay meaning you will?” Gen sits up, and I wince as I see those extremely red and swollen hives on her neck and forehead. Ouch. So much ouch. She put herself through hell to get out of this. I know she did. I don’t know when she came up with the plan to ask me to go on her behalf instead. It’s a terrible idea, and I doubt it was a spur-of-the-moment thing.
“Okay, as in, I’m glad you’ll talk to your mom,” I groan. “Not saying okay to going on a date with Mr. Rich Pants.”
“His name is Mont. Mont Montfield.”
“Are you freaking serious?”
“Yes.” She tires not to giggle, but her hand over her mouth just makes her face redder as she holds it in. “His full name is Bergamont.”
“Like the spice?’
“That’s bergamot.”
“Oh,” I mumble.
“At least you have that in common. You both have different names.”
“You mean names we both detest.”
“No, I mean names that other people get wrong all the time.”
I have to cede the point on that one.
“Anyway, we look nothing alike.” I’m not saying yes. I’m not going to do this for her because I love this woman so much. She’s way too soft and sweet for this world, and she’s like a sister to me. I’d do anything to protect her. But this?
Gen perks up, looking hopeful for the first time all night. “It doesn’t matter. You know how after we had money, my parents insisted that I had to be extra careful, especially about social media and stuff.”
“They just wanted to be like regular people.”
“Other than my mom starting to go to the country club, they have been. As much as I hated them for not letting me be like everyone else, it’s a good thing I have almost zero online presence. We’re boring rich people, not celebrities. No one wants to take our photo. We just blend in. I doubt anyone would know what I look like.”
“I’m sure your mom said you’re gorgeous, tall, blonde, a total ten, a freaking knockout…”
“There are these things called wigs. And you’re not short. You’re five-nine. I’m only an inch taller than you and a bit curvier, but I doubt she went into detail about bra cup size.”
“Oh my lord.”
“We don’t look that dissimilar,” she insists, and oh, freaking no. She’s getting that look on her face. Her typical this is a super bad idea, but it’s going to happen anyway, and it’s going to be fun look. “I could make it work. Full-on amazing ass makeover in a few hours. You could go tonight and ruin the date. You’re good at that.”
“Gen!”
“I mean…” Panic. Full-on panic mode. “Oh shit. I just meant you’re sassy and smart, and you could make this work in a second. You never get flustered. You have the strongest personality, and you’re tough. I didn’t mean that you did anything. That…that was all the name of the man we shall never speak of again because he’s not worth remembering.”
“You can say it,” I tell her with a sigh. It’s funny how time just makes thicker skin grow over wounds, but the healing is all wrong. I sometimes wish I could go back to those six months when I didn’t feel anything at all. When I was so shocked and numbed out, scooped out, wrecked out, and hollowed out, that I couldn’t cry or laugh or scream or rage. There was nothing. Just this flatline going on inside myself. But I’m not flatlining now. Part of me still wants to go find a punching bag and make it pay while I utter obscenities. “Jeff.”