“For what? The dog?”
His brow furrowed again, and Linda snorted.
“No. We’ll name the dog Jasper. They’re names for our future children. You’ll be expected to provide me with a boy and a girl, preferably in that order.”
“There are so many things wrong with that, I don’t even know where to start.”
“I fail to see the problem,” Jerry said. “You already told me you want children.”
“Yes, someday, with the right man, under the right circumstances,” I said. “You do realize a woman can’t choose the gender of her baby, right?”
“There are ways to increase the odds of having a baby of the desired gender,” Jerry said. “It’s all about proper timing and position during intercourse.”
“It works, dear,” Linda said. “I didn’t bring the book, but I’ll make sure you get a copy.”
This had gone from odd to shockingly bizarre so fast I felt like I had whiplash. How had I gotten myself into this? He’d seemed perfectly normal when we’d exchanged messages. A little stiff, perhaps, but not insane. I felt like I’d entered a parallel universe.
“Listen, Jerry, thanks for brunch, but this is all a little intense.” I pushed my plate away. “You seem to be looking for someone very specific, and it’s not me.”
“On the contrary, by my calculations, you’re close to perfect.” He tapped his pen against his notepad. “Should we visit the Humane Society today, or is another day better for you?”
“We’re not adopting a dog.”
Linda put a hand to her chest. “Didn’t you ask if she likes pets?”
Jerry flipped through his notes. “I might have missed it. I left my questionnaire at home. I know she’s not allergic…”
“I like pets fine; that’s not the point,” I said.
“Then is Wednesday good for you?” he asked. “I can probably squeeze you in during my lunch break, but you’ll need to meet me. I won’t have time to pick you up.”
“Remember, I volunteer at the library on Wednesdays,” Linda said. “That doesn’t work for me unless it’s before one.”
Jerry pulled out his phone. “Let me check my calendar, then. Everly, what’s your schedule like this week?”
I stood, quickly grabbing my purse. These people were crazy, and they clearly weren’t listening to a word I said. “I’m completely booked all week and also forever. I’d say it was nice to meet you both, but that wouldn’t be true. It’s been terrifying.”
I whipped around and walked away as quickly as my yellow high-heeled sandals would take me. Linda called my name, but I didn’t look back.
“Where do you find these weirdos?” Nora asked. “Did his profile say ‘psycho seeks long-term basement prisoner’?”
I slumped in my seat. “I don’t know. He hid his weirdness very well up until he brought out the notepad and pen. I can still hear the way that stupid pen clicked.”
“I can respect his desire for data, but that was over the line,” Hazel said.
“He didn’t seem to know there is a line.” I took a sip of my drink. “Maybe I’m meant to be alone.”
“Of course you’re not,” Nora said. “You’re just having a streak of bad luck.”
“More like I’m cursed.”
“Tell you what,” Nora said, grabbing my phone. “I’m picking your next date.”
“I don’t know.”
“Think about it,” she said, already scrolling through profiles. “We’ll trick fate or luck or the universe or whatever’s responsible for all these terrible dates you’ve been having. Plus, I have excellent taste.”
“Luck doesn’t exist, but there is some merit to her suggestion,” Hazel said. “It’s possible you’re unconsciously sabotaging yourself in your choice of potential partners.”
“Why would I be sabotaging myself?”
Hazel adjusted her glasses and shifted in her seat, adopting her I’m about to give a lecture posture. “Well—”
“Wait,” Nora said, holding up her hand. “This one.”
She handed my phone to me, the app open to a photo. He was undeniably attractive. The guy could have been an Instagram model. Dirty blond hair, strong jaw, cute smile. I read his profile. Thirty-one, never married, owned a construction company. He loved sushi, surfing, rock climbing, and his golden retriever, Magnolia.
“He seems…”
“Adorable,” Nora said. “Message him.”
I held up the phone so Hazel could see. “What do you think?”
She nodded. “I approve.”
I took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll message him and see if he responds.”
Nora squeezed my arm again. “That’s our girl.”
Episode 6
My phone buzzed as I gave myself a quick once-over in the mirror. I’d chosen a cute yellow dress—my favorite color—with a tapered waist and flared skirt, paired with periwinkle heels I’d borrowed from Nora. A little dressy for a first date, perhaps—especially considering I wasn’t sure where we were going, exactly—but it made me feel good, so I decided to stick with it.
Although I’d recently had a string of bad first dates, I was optimistic about today. In an attempt to fool fate, or the universe, or the arbiter of dating luck, Nora had suggested she choose someone for me. She’d found Gunnar Johanessen on a dating app, and so far, he seemed great. We’d messaged back and forth several times. He was charming and funny. Handsome. Owned a construction company.
Today was our first date, and I had a feeling my luck was about to change.
My phone buzzed again, and I picked it up to check.
Nora: Are you excited for your date?
Nora: Do you need help getting ready?
Me: Yes, and no, I’m fine. He’s picking me up in a few minutes.
Nora: What are you guys doing? It’s early. Lunch?
Me: I think so, but not sure where.
Nora: Okay, my love. Have fun!
Me: Thanks!
I checked my lipstick one last time before my phone buzzed again. It was Gunnar, letting me know he was here.
Okay, Everly. Let’s go break the bad-luck streak.
He was waiting outside my building. I waved and he got out of his black Ford Explorer to open the door for me.
Nice manners. Good start.
We exchanged hellos and introduced ourselves, since we hadn’t yet met in person. He looked exactly like he had in his photos—dark blond hair, blue eyes, muscular build. He wasn’t just attractive, he was downright gorgeous.
I resisted the temptation to immediately text Nora and Hazel to gush about how hot he was.
He got in the car and smiled. “You ready?”
“Yep, all set. Where are we going? Lunch?”
He pulled out onto the street. “Oh, right. Yeah, we were going to do lunch—I know a great Thai place—but it turns out I have this wedding to go to.”
“A wedding?”
He chuckled. “Yeah. My buddy Diego’s getting married today. It’s awesome, his fiancée Brittany is a total sweetheart.”
Oh god. Was it already happening? Had the bad luck fairy found me already?
“I just have to ask. When we made plans for today, did you not remember the wedding, or…?”
“I did forget. That sounds really bad, doesn’t it?” he asked, glancing at me as he merged onto the freeway. “It wasn’t on my calendar, and that’s totally my fault. I thought it was next weekend. I realized it this morning when my other buddy Tom asked if I’d picked up my tux. I told him I had a date and he said hey man, just bring her. So I thought yeah, perfect solution. I get to see my boy Diego get hitched and bring a beautiful date with me.”
“Um, tux? Are you in the wedding?”
“Of course. Diego’s my man.” He jerked his thumb behind him. “It’s in the back.”
I glanced over my shoulder. There was indeed a black garment bag in the back seat.
“Didn’t they have a rehearsal dinner or anything?”
He
shrugged. “No, though I wish they would have. I would have remembered this was today.”
“Gunnar, I had no idea we were going to a wedding. I would have worn something more appropriate.” Which was to say, politely declined and maybe gone out with him for lunch another time.
“First of all, you look incredible. You don’t need to change a thing. Second, I’m so sorry. I realize this is totally out of the blue. I’m a spontaneous guy. It keeps life interesting. But sometimes I forget that not everyone can roll with the punches like I do. If you want me to turn around and take you home, it’s no problem.”
“Well—”
“But before you make your decision,” he said, holding up a finger. “My friends are really cool. They’ve got us wearing monkey suits, but this whole thing is gonna be totally casual. Just, you know, do you, do you, awesome, kiss her. Then some good food, lots of wine, a little dancing, some cake. We don’t even have to stay very long.”
I tucked my hair behind my ear, debating what to do. Going to a wedding on a first date was unconventional at best. But I’d been on some very conventional dates that had turned out awful. Maybe this was part of the universe’s way of circumventing my bad luck.
“No, it’s fine, you don’t have to take me home. I’m sure this will be fun.”
He smiled at me again. He really did have a great smile. “Great. Thanks for being so cool about this.”
“Wait, I didn’t bring a gift. I didn’t even get them a card.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “They won’t expect anything.”
“All right. If you’re sure.”
“Absolutely sure.” Another grin. And the way his arm strained against his shirt wasn’t bad either.
This was fine.
I watched as the scenery changed. We drove east out of Seattle, and then kept right on going. Soon we were over the pass, surrounded by trees and mountain peaks. It was beautiful, but I’d assumed the wedding was somewhere nearby, not almost two hours from home.
“Where is this wedding, exactly?”
“It’s at a winery out here somewhere.” He rooted through the center console, pulling out a crisp white envelope. “The invitation is in there. I think it has the address.”
I took the envelope and pulled out the invitation. “Do you even know where you’re going?”
“More or less. I’ll figure it out.”
The invitation did have the address, to Salishan Cellars Winery in Echo Creek.
Ten minutes later—with me as navigator—we pulled into the winery. The grounds were gorgeous. Surrounded by mountains, there were lush gardens and pear trees, the vineyards visible in the distance. It was beautiful.
Gunnar got the garment bag and draped it over his shoulder, then led me inside the winery. It was beautiful in here, too. Very classy with dark wood beams and soft lighting.
A pregnant woman with dark hair came down the wide staircase. She was dressed in a blouse and slacks, and carried a clipboard. It looked like she worked here.
“Gunnar?” she asked.
“That’s me. How did you know?”
She pointed to his garment bag. “That’s a tux, and Gunnar is the only groomsman I haven’t met.” She held out her hand. “Zoe Miles. I’m the events manager. You need to get changed. I can show you where to go.”
“Thanks.” He turned to me and lowered his voice. “Listen, Everly, thank you so much for being so great. I’m totally going to make it up to you. Just hang in there and I promise we’ll have fun later.”
Zoe smiled at me. “If you’d like to wait in the tasting room, you’re more than welcome.”
“Thank you.”
Gunnar left with Zoe and I went down the hall to the tasting room. There was still an hour before the wedding started, so I ordered a glass of wine.
The wine was amazing, but I fidgeted in my seat, feeling out of place. Was this more bad first-date luck? Or was it about to turn into the best first date ever? Weddings were lovely, and very romantic. And if Gunnar’s friends were as fun as he’d said they were, maybe I’d meet some cool people.
This still had potential. I wasn’t going to throw in the towel just yet.
I also hadn’t driven myself, so I was stuck until Gunnar decided to leave. But I wasn’t letting myself think too hard about that.
Eventually, I joined the crowd of wedding guests in the garden outside. I sat by myself, trying not to look like I was at a total stranger’s wedding. At least no one asked me who I was or why I was here.
Gunnar had been right about the wedding being casual. And short. I’d never been to such a quick ceremony. The bridesmaids, dressed in matching peach dresses, came down the aisle, each on the arm of a groomsman. Gunnar winked at me as he passed. He did look great in that tux.
The groom stood at the front, beaming like he’d never been happier in his life while the bride walked down the aisle. Her dress was a simple white gown that looked lovely on her.
From the time the bride reached the front to the end of the ceremony couldn’t have been more than ten minutes. It was over before I had a chance to get teary over the vows.
The wedding party exited to the applause of their guests, then Gunnar came back to meet me.
“That was nice,” I said.
“Yeah, it was great. Diego’s a good guy. I’m happy for him.”
I took a deep breath. I wasn’t under—or over—dressed. Gunnar had probably been right about my lack of gift going unnoticed. We were in a beautiful winery. This was nice, all things considered. No bad luck in sight.
Or so I thought, until the reception.
Two hours after the ceremony, I stood to the side while Gunnar, the groom, and the other groomsmen—his buddies, as he kept calling them—did yet another round of tequila shots. I wasn’t sure who’d brought the tequila, but as soon as the music had started, they’d started drinking—hard.
The bride and her bridesmaids, along with most of the other guests, were busy dancing. Although dancing might not have been the right word. The bridesmaids had been doing shots along with the men, and they were one step away from stripping. Skirts were hiked up, panties showing, and there was so much twerking going in, I felt like we were at a cheesy meat-market club downtown.
Gunnar came over and draped an arm around my shoulder. “Why aren’t you dancing with the girls?”
I wrinkled my nose and worked my way out from under his arm. He was starting to sweat tequila. “That’s okay, I’d rather not.”
“Come on, Everly.” His speech was surprisingly clear, considering how much he’d had to drink. “Let’s have fun.”
He took my hands and I reluctantly let him lead me to the dance floor. The other guys followed, fist-pumping into the air and hollering. The bride backed up into the groom, shaking her ass to the music. He grabbed her hips and started thrusting against her while his buddies cheered.
Gunnar spun me around as the song changed. I stepped backward and ran into a solid wall of person. It was another groomsman. I looked up at his grin and suddenly found myself in between him and Gunnar, while they both tried to grind on me at the same time.
I planted a hand on each of their chests and pushed them away. They laughed and kept dancing, trying to get closer again. More people crowded the small dance floor and the next thing I knew, I was surrounded. The smell of tequila was everywhere, like they’d all been using it as cologne.
A bridesmaid grabbed me and for a second I thought I’d just been saved from the chaos. But she draped an arm around my shoulders, bent her knees, and writhed her way down, almost to the floor. She came up again, sliding her boobs against me, while I stood stiff with shock.
This was worse than a cheap club in a college town on the last night of finals.
Ducking out of the drunk bridesmaid’s grasp, I bumped into an older man. He lifted his arms and thrust his groin, over and over, leering at me like he expected me to either jump on him and wrap my legs around his waist, or turn around and bend over so
he could jackhammer into my ass.
Which, to be fair, was what half the other guests were doing.
“Cake!”
I had no idea who shouted it the first time, but in seconds, the dance floor erupted in a chant.
“Cake! Cake! Cake! Cake!”
Fists rose in the air, and as if the crowd was a single organism, the writhing, dancing wedding guests moved toward the cake table. The bride and groom stumbled, laughing and pawing at each other, around to the other side of the table. A winery employee was on hand with a knife—and I was about to jump in the way, sacrificing my body to make sure those two crazy drunk people did not get their hands on a sharp implement—when the groom dug his fist right into the cake and shoved a handful in the bride’s face.
There was a pause, a shocking moment of quiet when the entirety of the wedding reception took a collective breath. I watched in horror as the bride wiped frosting out of her eyes and flicked it from her hand onto the floor.
She raised her arms above her head and cheered, then took a fistful of cake and smashed it against the groom’s groin.
Their guests erupted with cheers. A groomsman dove for the cake, but Gunnar got there first. He raked his hand through the white confection and tossed his handful at the other guy.
I ducked, covering my head as everyone made for the cake.
Staying low, I scurried for the door. People shrieked behind me as cake flew everywhere. Gunnar and his gang of overgrown frat boys led the fray, tossing chunks of white cake and vanilla buttercream.
Somehow I made it out to the lobby with only a single smear of frosting on my dress. I found a bathroom and wiped it clean. By the time I came out, the noise in the reception room had died down. But I didn’t go back.
I went out the front doors and stood on the wide porch, breathing in the fresh clean air. The sun had gone down behind the mountains, and the last light of dusk painted the sky pink.
My phone buzzed in my purse, so I pulled it out, my heart sinking as I saw the number. It wasn’t Nora, calling to check up on me. After all, my lunch date should have ended already. It wasn’t Hazel, either.
Everly Dalton's Dating Disasters Page 5
