Page 18

My mother lifted an immaculately sculpted brow in my direction. Ignoring her skepticism, I continued, “He probably doesn’t even live in the city. Millions of people visit here every day.”

“There is no reason you can’t have a little fun between now and Mardi Gras,” my mother so cheerfully pointed out.

Stevie Malpas was a huge proponent of sexual enlightenment. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t a virgin, nor was I a prude. But there was just something about knowing I was only weeks away from finding my soulmate that had me living a celibate life.

Well, celibate when it came to other people. I mean a girl had needs and if my needs were being met by myself, well that wasn’t cheating.

“Freyja!”

Oh God. Not her. Not now.

My mother and I both stiffened at the sound of the nasally voice calling out my name. Looking at each other, my mother whispered, “Do you think she saw us?”

“Mother,” I deadpanned.

“Freyja, I am so glad I ran into you! I have the most amazing news.”

“Hi, Willa.”

Willamina Stuckers, formerly Dickers, and I met in college. Our families only semi ran in the same social circles. She got married right after graduation and never let me forget it.

At thirty-two, single with no children, Willa considered me an old maid. What she didn’t realize was that her husband Justin Stuckers only asked her out after he got tired of me turning him down.

Justin inherited his family’s fortune once he and Willa produced a male heir. It took them six tries. She seemed happy enough, though.

“Justin got a promotion!”

She was so excited; I didn’t have the heart to tell her that after ten years of working for his father’s company, he should be running it by now. But Justin was a slacker. He never put much effort into anything.

Except for creating an heir.

“That’s great, Willa.”

“No, you don’t understand. Now that he is in charge, I can make sure you are invited to all the galas we attend.”

My brow creased, not understanding why she would want me there. We weren’t that close. We hadn’t even been that close in college.

“I can help you find a husband. Before it’s too late.”

“Before it’s too late for what?” my mother asked. I had forgotten she was there, and I groaned internally. I knew where Willa was going, and Stevie Malpas would not take kindly to someone insinuating her daughter lived a subpar life simply because she wasn’t married and popping out babies.

My mother had nothing against women who wanted a life like that. Heck, she popped out four children herself andhomeschooled us. She was all for women doing whatever made their heart happy.

“Before it’s too late for her to have children. She is in her thirties, after all. There isn’t much time left,” Willa explained.

I took a step back as to not get in my mother’s way. If there was one thing she loved, it was putting people in their place. It was a bit ironic that giving her own opinion about someone’s opinion was something my mother excelled at. But as she’d drilled into us, it was never wrong to defend someone’s right to choose.

Whether we agreed with it or not.

“Willamina Stuckers, you do know women can have children into their fifties, right? Women produce an egg every month up until their body decides they are done. Who are we to tell a woman when the best year to conceive a child is?”

Willa’s mouth dropped open. She took a step back at my mother’s directness. But Stevie Malpas didn’t let you off that easily. She took a step forward, recreating the same distance between herself and the woman who dared to suggest that her daughter was doing anything other than exactly what she should be doing with her life.

Which was whatever made me happy.

“Well, it’s much harder late—”

“You know what every woman is capable of at every age in her life? Some women are not emotionally mature enough to care for another human being until they are well into their forties. While others believe they have to have as many children as they can right away, so their husbands don’t look for someone else.”