WES

That week, I’d looked at my phone more than any human being should look at an electronic device. I willed it to ring. I begged it to buzz with a text. I checked it obsessively, to the point where I was starting to go nuts.

But I didn’t call her. I didn’t want to be the guy who smothered the woman he loved. I didn’t want her to think I couldn’t give her space when she needed it or make her feel like what she’d asked for was wrong. Only the biggest asshole in the world would be like you don’t need space, babe, you need my big hard dick, although deep down I felt like going caveman on her. Driving to her house, carrying her up the stairs, throwing her down on the bed and worshipping her body until she was convinced that I loved her enough that I’d never let anything keep us apart. But I didn’t do that, either.

Although I thought about it a lot.

My mother was in a particularly good mood all week, which shouldn’t have bothered me, but it did. I couldn’t help thinking how miserable Hannah and I were in comparison. Maybe because I was home for dinner every night. Maybe she was truly that excited about my birthday dinner. Maybe she was secretly glad Hannah and I weren’t spending any time together this week. I wasn’t sure what it was, but by Thursday morning, her cheerfulness was borderline grating.

Don’t be an asshole. She’s your mother, and she’s happy you’re home.

That afternoon, she called me as I was leaving work. “Hello, darling,” she trilled. “How was your day?”

“Fine. Yours?” I unlocked my car and got in.

“Oh, fine. Listen, I’m downtown at that cute little martini place, the new one, and I wondered if you wanted to meet me for a drink.”

A drink sounded pretty damn good. “I guess I could.”

“Fabulous,” she cooed. “It’s called With a Twist. I’m right up front at the bar. You can’t miss me.”

“Okay, see you in a few.” I hung up and drove downtown, thinking it was a little curious, since I’d never known her to frequent bars on her own before, but then again, I’d been gone for the better part of ten years. She might have developed all kinds of new habits I hadn’t seen in the last month because I’d been so preoccupied with Hannah.

Still. I was slightly wary as I walked into With a Twist, which was located in an old storefront. It was dark inside, but I spotted her right away—and the pretty, well-dressed blond in the chair beside her.

Fuck me. She didn’t.

She saw me before I could escape. “Wes, darling!” My mother motioned me over and I grudgingly obeyed. When I got close enough, she grabbed my arm, like she was afraid I might try to make a run for it. “Wes, this is Becca, my friend Mary’s granddaughter, the one I’ve been telling you about. Becca, this is my son, Wes.”

Becca smiled beguilingly and held out her hand. She was young, probably mid-twenties, and wore lots of makeup. “Hi, Wes.”

“Hello.” I shook her hand and gave my mother a murderous look that she ignored.

“This is such a delightful coincidence, because I’ve been wanting to introduce y’all.”

A coincidence. Right.

“Sit down, darling. Here, take my seat.” She vacated the barstool next to Becca. “I actually have to run, but you two should stay and chat.”

I was fuming. I did not want to have a drink with Becca, but I didn’t see a way out of it without being rude. When I got home I was going to throttle my mother.

“Stay,” Becca coaxed, giving me a flirty look. “I’ll buy you a drink. You look like you could use one.”

“You have no idea.” Feeling outmanned and outmaneuvered and really fucking thirsty for some whiskey, I dropped onto the barstool next to her.

My mother beamed. “No rush to get home, Wes.”

“What time is dinner?” I asked her.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I can make you a plate any time. Y’all enjoy yourselves.”

“Bye, Lenore,” said Becca. “Thanks for the drink.”

I ordered some whiskey on the rocks, Becca ordered another Cosmo, and while we waited for them, I stewed about my mother. I couldn’t believe how she’d tricked me into this. However, it suddenly occurred to me that maybe this would help my case. My mother thought I was hung up on Hannah because I didn’t give anyone else a chance. If I played along with her little matchmaking game for twenty minutes or so, I could go home and report there was absolutely zero chemistry with Becca, I was madly in love with Hannah and always would be. Maybe then she’d believe me. At least she wouldn’t be able to say that I hadn’t looked at anyone else.

“Bad day?” Becca angled her body toward me and tilted her head. Her legs were crossed in my direction, her hands clasped over one knee. She had very good posture, or else she was trying to put her breasts on display, because her back was ramrod straight, almost arched. She was big-chested, and her breasts strained at the buttons of her blouse, which was already low-cut.

Okay, yes, I noticed them, but after that, I kept my eyes above her neck. And they didn’t do anything for me.

“Not really. Just tired.”

“Me too. I’ve been working a lot of hours. It’s so nice to relax and unwind.” She put one elbow on the bar and propped her head in her hand.

“Yeah.” What did she do again? I tried to recall what my mom had said. “You’re in sales?”

She nodded. “Pharmaceuticals. I used to come to your office a lot, but then my territory got switched. I knew your brother.”

“Oh.”

“I was really sorry to hear what happened. He was such a great guy.”

“Thanks.”

Our drinks arrived, and I took a healthy swallow.

“So you just bought a house, I hear?”

“Yeah.” I felt like a dick with my one-word answers and my obvious lack of interest, but this was not my strong suit—small talk with strange women.

“Where is it?”

“On the lake, north of town.”

“Nice.”

There was an awkward pause, and we both drank. At this point, I couldn’t even make eye contact.

“Wes.” She put a hand on my knee. “You don’t have to be nervous. I don’t bite.”

“I’m not nervous.” I looked at her hand on me and wished she’d remove it.

“Your mom said you were shy.” She leaned toward me a little, her blouse falling open. “Don’t worry, I think it’s cute.”

Oh, Jesus.

I was trying to think of what to come back with, how to nicely request that she take her hand off my leg, when I heard a voice say, “Wes?”

I turned, and there was Hannah. Slack-jawed, stormy-eyed, and trembling as she looked back and forth from Becca to me. “I knew it,” she said. “I fucking knew it.”

Then she was gone.