“I’m hungry, let’s eat first.”
Julia looks at me like I just grew another head. “It’s 3:15, Daphne.”
“So what? I didn’t eat lunch because I was busy cleaning.”
“I’ll make you a little plate of cheese and crackers. I brought snacks.”
“You brought snacks?” I ask, amused.
“I’m a mom. I always bring snacks. You’re getting Goldfish and string cheese.”
I make a face. “I was thinking more like a giant sub sandwich from the deli down the street.”
“You can’t eat a big meal this close to your date. You won’t be hungry enough. Good guys like women who eat on dates.”
“Jules, if all I get is some Goldfish and string cheese, I’m going to start gnawing on my own arm by the time we sit down at the restaurant. You want me to be hangry?”
Her grin is confident. “You won’t be. I’m also allowing you one glass of wine to loosen you up. I can tell you’re nervous.”
“I’m not nervous because it’s not a date.”
Julia rolls her eyes. “This is me, Daph. Lie to yourself if you want, but you can’t lie to me.”
“We’re just hanging out.”
“Andrew and I were just hanging out, too. And then all of a sudden we’d done anal and were shopping for a china pattern.”
Laughing, I say, “But you wanted to get married. After Aiden, I don’t want that anymore.”
“Aiden’s a tool. You guys would’ve broken up a lot sooner if our parents weren’t friends with his parents.”
She’s right, and it’s a sore spot for me. It shouldn’t matter what family he comes from, the guy broke my heart. But my parents want me to give him another chance.
“Yeah, Dad still wants him to be his son-in-law,” I say bitterly. “Even after he cheated on me.”
Julia sighs. “We both know Mom and Dad have shady moral compasses. You can’t make it in politics if you don’t.” She grabs the glass of wine she set on top of my dresser when she arrived and takes a drink, sitting down next to me on my bed. “Speaking of Mom, have you talked to her in the last few days?”
“No. She left some voicemails but I never listened to them. That’s probably why I’m in such a good mood.”
“You know how she makes dad’s Coms people update her on everything that hits the news about our family, right?”
“Yep.”
“Well, the good news is I think she’s over you getting back together with Aiden. But it’s because she got wind of the picture of Olivier going to your office and she’s pretty much planning your wedding with him.”
I cringe. “Fuck her. Seriously, she never had a care for how Aiden made me feel or what I want. All she cares about is having shit to brag to her bridge club friends about.”
“I just wanted to let you know. Let’s not let it ruin our good mood, okay?”
I grab her glass of wine, take a sip and pass the glass back. “I’m getting in the shower.”
“Take your time. I’m going to drink wine and lie here and enjoy the silence. No one asking me to come wipe their butt or get them a snack or read them a story. I’m going to turn something tawdry on TV that I can’t watch when the kids are around. Are the Real Housewives still a thing?”
“I don’t know,” I call from the bathroom, “but will you come wipe my butt?”
“Fuck you!” She shouts, as we laugh over the sound of the shower starting.
I undress and step into the shower, standing under the stream of hot water for a couple minutes. I’ve been busy from the moment I woke up this morning, which isn’t how Saturdays usually go for me. I like to sleep in and be lazy until at least noon. Sunday is usually my day to accomplish things.
There’s nothing left for tomorrow, though, because today I cleaned, did laundry, got groceries and hung a few new pictures in my apartment. It’s hard for me to admit it, but I am nervous.
I don’t want to want a man in my life. Aiden burned me hard, and that was just four months ago. Olivier is handsome, thoughtful, sweet, successful…and deep down, I know I shouldn’t hold his wealth against him. He also saved my life. He even charmed my bulldog grandmother, which is no small feat.
What’s not to like? I get why everyone around me is asking that.
The issue, I admit to myself as I lather up my hair with coconut-scented shampoo, isn’t that I don’t like him. It’s that I’m scared of liking him. I feel like a fool who vowed never to love again and then got all heart-eyed over the next man who crossed her path.
I can be hard-headed. I had to fight my mother so hard as a kid for things other children take for granted. When I wanted to play outside, she wanted me to practice piano. The year I wanted to donate my Christmas gifts to less fortunate children, she laughed and told me it was their parents’ fault they didn’t have more and that I was being ungrateful. I had to secretly try out for my school basketball team, because she forbade it, saying basketball was unladylike.
Nothing was easy for me. My mother wanted her daughters to be miniature versions of her, and that just wasn’t me. Stella and Julia didn’t do everything she wanted, but they did most of it. I was always the stubborn one.
Because of that, I grew into a woman who tends to dig her feet in first and ask questions later. It’s not all bad. Fighting for marginalized people comes naturally for me. I’ve lived on the other side of the coin, where everything is about who you know and how much money you have.
“Your Goldfish and wine are waiting!” Julia yells as I’m drying off after my shower.
I inhale the food and sip the wine slowly as my sister blow dries my hair. Then she uses a curling brush to style it in big waves. She spends lots of time getting my makeup just right before letting me look at it.
“I like it,” I say, admiring my smoky gray eye makeup and contoured cheekbones. “I haven’t had makeup like this in ages.”
“Are you going to sleep with him?” my sister asks nonchalantly.
I give her a look. “Are you out of your mind?”
“I would if I were you,” she says, shrugging.
“Really?”
“He’s hot, Daphne. And I saw the outline of his dick in a photo online of him out running in shorts. It’s impressive.”
“You’re ridiculous.” I roll my eyes at her as I pack the tiny handbag I’m carrying tonight.
“If you do sleep with him, wash off your eye makeup before you go to bed or you’ll look scary when you wake up in the morning. That’s why I was asking.”
“We’re just hanging out,” I say firmly. “Dinner and conversation. Nothing more. I told him that.”
“Only you would friend zone a hot billionaire who literally rescued you from a burning car,” she says, shaking her head.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demand.
“I love you, but you’re a martyr. If Mom and Dad say yes, you say no. It doesn’t matter what the question is.”
I scowl with disapproval, her words making me bristle.
“This isn’t about Mom and Dad. I just got out of a long relationship. We were engaged. I want to focus on myself for a while, and when I am ready for a relationship again, I can’t see myself with a billionaire. Yes, he saved my life, Jules. I’m grateful. But I’d rather be with a man who has $100 and gives $99 to people who need it than a billionaire.”