Page 10 of A Really Bad Idea

“It’s so nice to see you,” I say with a hand to my chest as the air circulates back into my windpipe.

Frank went a little overboard on the cologne this morning, and it’s wafting up into my nostrils.

Mom places a finger under her nose and lets out a little cough. “Your father told me you just bought a place in the city.”

“I got a real nice one-bedroom in Hell’s Kitchen. Very up-and-comin’,” he replies with an accent he acquired from his parents who were raised in Brooklyn.

My mother seems pleased. “I was thinking you and Meadow could connect now that you’re practically neighbors.”

“That’s not exactly neighbors,” I mumble, but it falls on deaf ears.

“She’s just getting her feet wet in the dating pool. Maybe you can take her out to some swinging singles spots. Show her where the older girls meet men,” she offers me up.

My head falls in my hand as Frank turns with a grimace while he gesticulates with his hands. “I heard you went through a messy divorce. Too bad about him sleeping with all those women. I saw he’s dating that Victoria’s Secret model now. Must be hard for you to shop for underwear. Hey, you don’t think he ever slept with anyone in your house—you know, on the kitchen counter or anything? If you want to unload that apartment of yours, I have contacts who can get you a new place. Maybe a studio in Chelsea? It’s supposed to be very hip among the single ladies. The guys are swarming, ready to hook up. Clock’s ticking, if you know what I mean.” He nudges me in the ribs with his elbow.

“No. Not really,” I state slowly.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Meadow … look, I’d really like to take you out.” He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “I swear, no real estate talk.”

“That’s a very nice offer, but I don’t think I’m quite ready to date.”

“It doesn’t have to be a date. Consider it two friends exploring the city. Although you’re a real catch, Meadow. There is no harm in putting yourself out there. A pretty blonde like yourself deserves to be with someone who appreciates everything you bring to the table.”

“Thank you, Frank,” I say genuinely and then gaze aimlessly around the backyard with a muted pause.

My mother must sense the uneasiness in the conversation because she blurts out, “If you’ll excuse us, I want Meadow to say hello to everyone. You two should definitely exchange numbers before you leave.”

She pulls me away as Frank says something along the lines of getting together for steaks.

We’re off the deck and on the grass as she leans into me. “His mother said he’s looking to settle down. He really is a nice boy.”

“Mom, the man just gave me the intense desire to burn my underwear and bleach my entire kitchen.”

“Okay, so he’s a little blunt. Out of all my friends, these are the only ones who have single sons.”

“Are you saying, these are the only single men in the entire state of New Jersey?” I fake being shocked to make my point even more.

She gives me that mom eye I’ve seen way too many times in my life. “What I’m saying is, you don’t have the luxury to be picky. At your age, all the good ones are taken.”

“I’m not taken. What does that say about me?” I glance around the yard toward Garret and Aaron, the remaining two men my mother thinks are prospects.

“You know what I mean. You can go to a bar and meet a random man, but you recall how that worked out for you in the past. At least these gentlemen come from good families.” She pulls me further into the yard. “You remember Garret Kent. He recently went through a divorce, although he pays his ex-wife alimony—unlike other people.”

I bite the inside of my cheek as she walks us toward the outdoor firepit where Garret is standing, talking to someone on his phone. He looks just as handsome as he did when we were in high school. We dated for a hot second during our junior year. He asked me to the winter formal. He copped a feel without asking my permission, and I threw up on his Nikes. It wasn’t my finest moment, and he eventually moved on to greener … looser pastures. We’ve run into each other a few times over the years, and each time has been cordial. Like today.

I don’t miss the way his dark eyes widen in delightful surprise as we approach.

“I have to call you back,” he says to the person on the other end of the line and ends the call without waiting for their response.

His wavy blond hair is brushed back, and his long-sleeved pink polo shirt showcases his lean muscles.

“Wow.” He kisses me on the cheek, and his mouth makes a sucking sound. “You haven’t aged a day.”

“Thank you. How have you been?” I brush his spittle off my cheek with my shoulder.

“No complaints,” he says with a smile, and I swear, a diamond just glistened off of his pearly whites.

“I saw on Facebook, you have a son. He looks just like you.” I hope I don’t sound like a stalker.