10 Blind Dates, page 7
“So how many times did that kid try to grab your butt?” Olivia asks once we’re back on the main road.
“Too many times to count! His nickname is Hundred Hands Harold. Some little girl warned me about him when we first got here.”
“Hundred Hands Harold!” Charlie howls. He glances at me from the rearview mirror. “I’ve laughed more today than I have in a long time. And you look a whole lot better than you did a few days ago.”
My cheeks actually ache from smiling right now. I remember that’s almost exactly what Wes said to me last night.
“I agree, you do look a lot better,” Olivia says. “We’ve missed you.”
It’s the first time any of us have mentioned out loud how distant we’ve become.
“Me too. Thanks for coming to get me. I’m sure y’all would rather be doing anything other than rescuing me from this date.”
Olivia throws me a confused look. “Please. I’m glad you’re stuck with us for the next week.”
“I’m just glad Ol’ Griff’s out of the picture,” Charlie says. “This week wouldn’t be nearly as fun if you were ditching us to go see him.”
I lower my eyes. That had been exactly my mission before the breakup. Anytime Mom wanted to come to Shreveport for the day or the weekend, I usually opted to stay behind with Dad or at Addie’s so I could be with Griffin.
“It has been a long time since we’ve hung out like this,” I say. And, for the first time since I’ve been back at Nonna’s, things finally feel normal with us. “If Wes was here, it would be just like old times.”
Charlie snorts.
“What do you mean by that?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Nothing. Just not a fan of Laurel’s.”
I’m dying to know more, but instead I lean my head against the window and enjoy the Harold-free ride.
Nonna and I are cleaning up the huge mess in the kitchen from the post-date beignets when a knock on the back door startles us—mostly because no one ever knocks before coming in this house.
“It’s open!” Nonna calls out.
Wes sticks his head in, his eyes scanning the room. “Don’t tell me I missed them.”
I give him a small smile. “Sorry, Charlie and Olivia left about ten minutes ago.”
He lets out a quick laugh. “Not them! The beignets. Please tell me there are a few left.”
Nonna puts the plate with the few remaining treats on the table. “Help yourself, honey.”
Wes sits at the table and I plop down across from him.
“Your date ended early,” I say.
He shrugs. “So did yours, I hear.”
I drop my head to the table and groan. “You have no idea how horrible it was. Between Hundred Hands and the hungry goat, I wasn’t sure I was going to make it out alive.”
“Charlie sent me a play-by-play.” He pauses. “And a picture.”
My head pops up. “No, he didn’t.”
A small, powdered sugar smile plays across his face. Wes turns his phone around and there I am, sweating and red faced, holding that crying baby. The lights are glowing around me, and my halo hangs off to one side of my head. Harold is cuddled up next to me, smiling as big as he can.
It’s Wes’s new home screen.
I groan again.
He puts his phone down and eats the last beignet in one bite.
“So you know why my date ended early, but why did yours? It’s barely nine o’clock.”
He shrugs again. “We had this dinner thing to go to and now it’s over.”
I wait for more, but he’s busy brushing powdered sugar off his fingers.
“Charlie has tomorrow’s date. Any idea who he’s set me up with?” I ask.
Wes sweeps up loose powdered sugar that found its way off his plate and shakes his head. “I asked but he wouldn’t tell me.”
I prop my elbows on the table and drop my head in my hands.
“He’ll pick one of our friends. You’ll have fun,” he says.
We watch each other a few seconds, until I finally say what’s been on my mind. “I realized tonight I’ve really missed hanging out here…with you and Charlie and Olivia.”
He gives me a look I haven’t seen before, part smile, part smirk. “We’ve missed you, too.”
And for the first time since all of this started, I’m really glad I’m here.
I can’t get to the board in the kitchen fast enough. No matter how hard I begged Charlie yesterday, he wouldn’t give me the slightest hint as to who I was going out with or where we were going.
“You’re going to have so much fun at that party,” Nonna says. She’s pulling a tray of cinnamon rolls out of the oven. The room smells delicious. And I laugh when I read the words on her apron: I put the Pro in Prosecco!
“You know where we’re going?” I ask, then pull out a knife so I can help her put on the icing.
“Yes, it’s at the Browns’ just around the corner. Their first party was about five years ago and now it’s a tradition in this neighborhood. Amy gives prizes for the ugliest sweater and there are lots of other games. Her sons, Alex and Brandon, go to the same high school as your cousins, so there’ll be plenty of kids there your age.”
Nonna moves the iced rolls to a platter, and just like clockwork, family starts pouring in from the back door.
“I know some of the family usually drops in for breakfast, but are there always this many?” I whisper to Nonna.
She cocks her head. “It’s the holidays. Plus everyone is just so excited you’re here.”
My forehead scrunches up. “They aren’t here to see me.”
Nonna gives me a soft smile. “Well, of course they are. This is a real treat to have you here, all to ourselves.”
Aunt Lisa puts her arm around me and gives me a kiss on my forehead. “ ’Morning, Sophie. I hear last night’s date was interesting.”
I grimace. “I’m not sure interesting is the right word for it.”
Uncle Sal and his group take up almost the whole table. Not only is he the oldest sibling, he and Aunt Camille have the most kids, with five. They also have the most animals, since Aunt Camille has never met a stray she didn’t adopt. Charlie pops in a few minutes later with Sara right on his heels. They pull up extra chairs and wedge themselves in the few open spaces at the table.
I throw a couple of cinnamon rolls on a plate and drag one of the stools closer to the table. “So where am I going to find an ugly sweater for the party tonight?” I ask Charlie.
“Make one. And seriously, the uglier the better. I’ve got a side bet with Olivia that my date’s going to be better than hers.”
Sara nudges him in the side. “I’ll get in on that bet. I’ve got tomorrow and I know my date’s going to make your date look like Aunt Patrice planned it.”
I let out a groan. “I guess everyone knows about last night?”
“Yeah, we all got the picture, too. How old was he? Twelve?” Uncle Sal asks.
I shoot daggers at Charlie. “I guess you sent that picture to everyone?”
He holds his hands up in front of him. “I couldn’t help it! Once I started I couldn’t stop.”
“Is there no privacy in this family?”
Everyone at the table answers, “No.”
Charlie turns to his sister. “Why do you think your date is going to be better than mine? You’re fifteen. What do you know about dating?”
“I’m good just as long as there are no farm animals,” I say. “Or babies.”
Sara gives us a smug smile. “You’ll see. It’s going to be awesome.”
Aunt Patrice, Uncle Ronnie, and the boys burst through the back door, Patrice’s eyes searching the room for me.
Once she finds me, she barrels through the crowd.
“The Nativity was ruined once you left. It all just…fell apart. Harold was so depressed you left that he didn’t want to be Joseph anymore. The goats got sick and threw up on everything. Baby Jesus just cried and cried.”
Olivia sneaks in during Aunt Patrice’s outburst and drops down in the seat next to me, nudging me under the table.
“I’m really sorry, Aunt Patrice,” I say with the most sincere voice I can muster.
Her frown persists. “I know you still haven’t gotten over Dave, but that’s still no reason to ruin everyone’s fun.”
“Griffin,” Charlie says.
“Who’s Griffin?” she asks.
“The guy Sophie can’t get over,” he answers.
I throw a piece of cinnamon roll at him.
Aunt Patrice looks confused. “Then who’s Dave?”
Charlie shrugs. “I have no idea.”
Aunt Patrice finally walks away, still pondering who Dave is. At least she’s not chewing me out anymore.
Uncle Michael walks in and says, “The new sheet is up.”
This dating thing has turned into something like the NBA finals. Apparently Nonna got wind yesterday that my uncles, a few of my aunts, and some of my older cousins are betting on what time I get home from my date. Their basic strategy is to weigh who picked the date, what the activity is, and how long they think I can put up with him. All bets have to be finalized by the time I get in my date’s vehicle.
Nonna acts like she’s annoyed, but I suspect she’s in on it. How else would they know what time I walk through the door?
“So there’s an actual sheet where you can place a bet now?” I ask Olivia.
“Yes. The group message was getting out of control.”
“How many people are in the group? And why can’t I be in it?”
Olivia’s mouth forms a weird grimace. “Pretty much everyone. I wanted to add you, but Graham said the only way to keep the competition pure was to make sure you weren’t influenced by the bets. Then Uncle Ronnie hijacked it with pics of his dog, so Charlie made another group text without him where we took a vote to see if we should kick him out. In the end, Uncle Michael decided to make a betting sheet.”
Banks, Uncle Sal’s son, leans forward and says, “It’s like one of those betting squares you do for the Super Bowl.”
I look at Olivia. “This has gotten out of control.”
She nods toward Uncle Sal. “I mean, I didn’t know if he even knew how to text, and then he was blowing my phone up.”
Uncle Sal laughs. “I’m glad we’ve moved on to the sheets. I couldn’t take one more picture of Ronnie’s dog licking his butt.”
My phone vibrates on the table and I turn it over. My heart skips when I see Griffin’s name there. It’s like he knew we were just talking about him.
Charlie turns up behind me and glances at the screen. “Oh no. No jackasses on my day.” He tries to grab the phone, but I hold it just out of reach.
I scoot back in my chair and swipe open his message. It’s a picture of me with Seth and Olivia and Drew from my first date. We’re all huddled together in front of a giant cardboard snowman. The picture was taken right after our snowball fight.
GRIFFIN: Someone sent me this. This guy you’re with posted it and said “Hoping all of her other dates suck”
Before I can even think of a response, Griffin sends another text.
GRIFFIN: I guess I didn’t expect you to go on a date so soon. I know I screwed up. And I’m sorry. It kills me to see you with this guy
“Hell no,” Charlie says from over my shoulder. He succeeds in taking my phone this time. “He’s not going to lay some guilt trip on you when he was the one who wanted to break up.”
Charlie starts tapping something on my phone. I try to snatch it back.
“What are you saying?” My shrill voice echoes through the kitchen, but no one gives me more than a glance.
“I’m telling him what you should have days ago.”
By the time Charlie gives me back the phone, I know his message has been sent. And when I read over what he wrote, my cheeks get pink with embarrassment. Charlie was very descriptive about what Griffin should stick into certain body parts.
I’m staring at my phone when Nonna pushes me toward the hall. “Go get dressed. You’re riding to the shop with me, since Olivia has some stuff to do for her mother this morning. We’ll stop at the store and see if we can find you something to wear tonight.”
Most of the family scatters from the kitchen once they’re done eating. Charlie stops at the back door and hollers, “Be ready at six thirty!”
I’m still staring at my phone by the time I enter the guest room, but not surprisingly, Griffin doesn’t respond.
Nonna and I are on the way to the store when Mom calls.
“Hey, sweetie, how are you? I guess you survived your date last night?” she says. I can tell she’s trying to be upbeat, but she sounds tired. And worried.
“It was horrible, but what else would you expect from Aunt Patrice? How’s Margot?”
Mom’s quiet on the other end. “She’s okay. Hanging in there.”
I try to speak, but it feels like something is lodged in my throat. Finally, I ask, “What’s going on? What are you not telling me?”
“Well, her blood pressure is a little higher than the doctor would like, and then there’s the swelling. She’s having a few contractions, but they’re giving her some magnesium, so that should take care of that. No need to worry! We’re all keeping a close eye on her!”
Mom sounds overly enthusiastic, which makes me doubt her. “Is she going to be okay? Is the baby?”
“Yes, honey. They’re both okay. Are you? If I need to, I can put an end to this blind date thing. I hate to think you’re up there miserable.”
Gah, the last thing I want any of them to worry about is me. “No. It’s fine. It’s a good distraction. I keep telling myself this is going to make for a good story later.”
Mom lets out a soft laugh. “Well, we love you. Very much.”
“Love y’all, too. Tell Margot to text me if she feels up to it.”
“I will, sweetie. She’s sleeping right now, but I know she loves hearing what’s going on with you. She got the biggest kick out of that picture Charlie sent her last night.”
At least there was some good that came out of that.
We say our good-byes, and I hang up just as we pull into the parking lot.
“How bad is it?” Nonna asks.
“Huh?” I ask, scrunching up my forehead.
“Margot and the baby. Your mother acts like I didn’t have eight children of my own. She thinks I’m too fragile to know what’s happening down there.”
I sigh. “Her blood pressure is too high and the swelling is bad. Some contractions, but they’re trying to stop them.”
Nonna nods. “Well, good. It’s amazing what those doctors can do! I know everything will be just fine!”
And now I see where Mom gets her fake enthusiasm.
We wander through the store and head to the craft section, debating what we need to make the tackiest sweater ever. Nonna found an old red sweater in her drawer this morning, so all we need are decorations.
She holds up a package of silver tinsel. “How about this? We could hot-glue it down the arms of the sweater.”
Oh God.
She sees the look on my face. “Sophie, the key here is tacky.”
I nod and she starts throwing everything from bows to colored pipe cleaners to fuzzy cotton ball–looking things into the basket. She’s got a twinkle in her eye. “When I’m done with this sweater, there’s no way you won’t win.”
I drop my head back and stare at the ceiling. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
We head to the checkout when the basket is almost full, but she stops suddenly. “Oh! I almost forgot. Gigi needs a few things.” She pulls out a piece of paper from her purse and I recognize the small scrawl of my great-grandmother. “Could you go grab these? I’ll go ahead and get in line. We’ll drop them off at the nursing home on the way to the shop.”
I read the list and blanch at items like adult diapers. Once I find everything, I run through the store carrying all of the items on the list as discreetly as I can. Nonna is unloading the stuff for my sweater on the conveyor belt and talking to the guy checking her out.
I walk up just in time to hear her ask him, “Do you have any plans for New Year’s Eve? I’m looking for a date for my granddaughter!”
What.
Is.
She.
Doing.
“Well,” he says. “I think my friends might be having a party, but we’re not sure yet…”
His eyes move from her to me and then to the items in my arms. He zeroes in on the hemorrhoid cream.
“Oh, there she is! This is my granddaughter Sophie,” she says, then looks at his name tag. “Sophie, this is David.”
I drop all of the items on the conveyor belt and look at Nonna. “I’ll be waiting in the car.”
Just as I’m about to leave the store, I hear her say, “Well, if the party with your friends doesn’t work out, call Greenhouse Flowers and Gifts and ask for Sophie.”
Olivia and I are hiding out in the back greenhouse on our lunch break, eating some sandwiches Aunt Lisa packed for us. She’s texting back and forth with Drew, a dimpled smile on her face, and I hate to admit I’m jealous.
I’ve heard from Seth a few times, but we’re in that new, awkward phase of communicating. I miss having a deeper connection with someone. I’ve already talked to Addie twice today, once this morning to fill her in on last night’s date and then again after that picture of Seth and me was posted.
So instead of giving in and texting Griffin, I text Margot.
ME: How are you?
MARGOT: Good!
ME: You’re full of it. Mom called me this morning.
MARGOT: Fine, then. It sucks right now. Not only am I worried about the baby but Mom and Dad and Brad’s parents are DRIVING ME CRAZY.
I want so much to tell her how scared I am for her and the baby. But that’s not what she needs to hear from me right now.
ME: Tell Mom you want some of her vegetable soup. You know that takes her hours to fix. And doesn’t Brad’s mom sew or something like that? Tell her you want her to make something special for the baby. You have to keep them busy.
MARGOT: You’re right. Hold on, I’m on it.
I eat half my sandwich before Margot texts me back.
