Page 12 of Maid of Dishonor

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Page 12 of Maid of Dishonor

“Yes, well”—she looks sternly at me—“if I had your young man hanging around all the time, I probably wouldn’t want anyone new, either.”

“He’s not my young man,” I say, but I can feel my traitorous cheeks heating up.

“Oh, pish posh,” Wini says. “That boy makes you swoon.”

True. Very true. “We’re not—I mean, there’s nothing romantic between us,” I say.

Wini gives me another stern, knowing look. “I think you both just need a kick in the pants to get things rolling.”

That expression she’s wearing plucks a nervous twinge within me—she looks suddenly like a woman with a plan.

“No pants kicking,” I say quickly, because Wini isjustunpredictable enough that I could see her actually trying to push us together somehow. “No kicked pants are needed.”

“Hmm,” she says, her gaze calculating.

“No kicked pants,” I repeat. Then I take a big bite of my candy bar so that I’ll have a valid excuse not to continue this conversation, and it works, because Wini just eyes me skeptically before moving on.

“Well, there really wasn’t anyone good at the speed dating event last week,” she says with a sigh. “Not for you, anyway. Boris said he was going to bring his grandson tonight, though. A dermatologist with dreamy eyes, apparently. He might do. I thought the Murphy boy might be all right, but then he bent over and I got a good look at his crack. The man ought to know to keep his trousers pulled up.”

I almost choke on my laugh. But I’d rather not discuss any man’s trousers or crack, and I’dreallyrather not indulge Wini’s desire to find me a man friend, so I speak. “Oh, hey,” I say around a mouth full of chocolate, grasping for a change of topic. “I forgot to ask you how book club went. You promised you’d tell me what you thought of that last novel. I’m almost finished with my current read, and after that I’ll need something new.”

“It was utter rubbish,” she says, shifting in her seat and leaning back in her chair. “Dull and depressing. I don’t see why all these books insist upon beingsadat the end.”

“Hmm. I’ll skip that one, then,” I say, feeling a wave of relief that she’s dropped all talk of cracks and male suitors.

We chat for a few more minutes before I excuse myself, thanking her for the candy.

“All right, all right,” she says, waving me away. “Go work or whatever it is you young folk do these days. Netflix and chill—Boris said that last week. You go Netflix and chill.”

Good grief. What kind of old men are showing up at these speed dating events? “I feel I should probably tell you that ‘Netflix and chill’ is slang for…uh…intimate behavior,” I say.

Wini’s eyes open wide in an uncharacteristic display, and then she blurts, “Sex?”

I rub my hand over my mouth and chin, trying not to laugh. “That’s the one,” I say.

Wini puts her fisted hands on her hips andharrumphs. “And I’ll just bet he thought he was the bee’s knees,” she mutters, her cheeks reddening. “Unseemly old rascal.”

I don’t miss the twitch of her lips, though, or the twinkle in her eye. I suspect Wini is having a blast being pursued by Boris.

And before I can stop myself, the question roiling around in my head spills out of my lips. “And dating doesn’t—you know. Worry you? Or scare you at all? I know when Bill passed it was hard. You don’t worry that losing someone again would hurt?”

Wini gives a barking laugh, and it startles me so much that my eyes actually widen.

“Absolutely not,” she says, waving my question away. “Living in the past is just living on the sidelines. I don’t have time for that. I could drop dead at any second.”

Despite her utter irreverence at saying this, I can’t find it in me to force a smile. She makes it sound so easy, staying out of the past. And yet it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever tried to do.

* * *

Back downstairs on my tiny,cushiony couch, I start planning for Maya’s ill-advised wedding.

Carter is going to find a way to stop the whole thing, of course—or at least he’s going to do his best—and I’ll undoubtedly get roped into whatever schemes he hatches. I don’t know how that’s going to work, but to be fair, Chet/Chad really is not a great guy for Maya. Anyone who’s habitually unfaithful needs to go.

It’s just…Maya so clearly needs our support right now. And I just want to help her. I’m not so sure it’s my place to try to stop her from getting married.

Either way, the secret romantic in me can’t help but sit up a little straighter and rub her hands with glee at the thought of planning a wedding.

Because let’s face it: this might be the only chance I get. At the rate I’m going, my own wedding will happen sometime next century. I would either have to get Carter to fall in love with me, or I’d have to falloutof love with him and then fallinlove with someone else.