Page 79 of Man Seeking Woman

Sipping her wine, she glared at August through her glass. “I told you, we're having lamb. Do you not listen when I'm talking?”

“I try not to,” he said, chuckling lightly. “But you still keep talking.”

Fran let her eyes glide over to mine. “I don't need to talk to him, I'll just talk to you.” Taking another big gulp of her drink, she pointed at me as she swallowed. “Tell me, what do you do, Ella?”

“I'm a teacher—well, trying to be. I substitute right now.”

“A substitute, isn't that just—nice.”Setting her glass down, she looked unimpressed and uninterested.

Who cares what she thinks! You don't need to impress her!

So why does it feel like I do?

“What about you? Do you work at the brewery with August?” I asked, gingerly picking up my glass by the stem.

August let out a loud laugh, quickly reeling it back in, and clearing his throat. “My mother wouldn't step foot in that place unless she absolutely needs to. And she hasn't needed to in years.”

“Is that what you think?” she asked, sternly setting her glass on the table.

“I know you, Mom, you hate that place.”

Leaning forward, Fran folded her hands together and rested her chin on her fists. “Let me tell you a little something, that brewery didn't build itself, and your father didn't create it on his own. Behind every great man is a great woman, unfortunately, your father refused to see that.”

“Well, he's certainly trying to see something now.”

“What in world does that mean?”

August shook his head, speaking down into his chest. “Nothing, it's nothing.”

His mother watched him, trying to figure out what he meant. She had no clue about what August was doing or why. But I knew, and I wasn't going to get involved in that discussion.

Dinner with August and his mother was an entire evening full of tension and awkward conversation. The two of them went back and forth, their banter at times comical, but also making me feel out of place.

I wasn't sure if she was going to smack him at times or if she would crack a smile. She didn't do either, but I left knowing one thing for sure; Fran definitely didn't like me.

I wasn't a gorgeous fashion model, or a rich and famous actress. I didn't come from money, or from a wealthy family that ran an entire city.

I was just a simple girl from Rhode Island, with big dreams and a set of balls big enough to bring her to New York to follow those dreams.

That, in my eyes, made me more than just some girl.

I was strong.

I was independent.

I was a real woman, who didn't need someone else to guide her.

I chose this, just like I'll choose what's next.