Page 3 of Her Inconvenient Wedding Date (Unexpected Dates #2)

Lily

“Another fine day ruined by responsibility.” ~Unknown

“You’ve been needing a husband for the past year, and you never bothered to mention that to me?”

Apparently, Hunter has a lot more questions for me after I told him about my dilemma.

So many questions that we had to move our conversation to the company cafeteria, so we’d have a little more privacy.

You’d be surprised at how curious tech guys can be when they get wind of any sort of relationship talk.

Their brains may be hardwired to think in ones and zeroes, but their hearts still long for human connection.

That’s probably how Jasmine was able to talk those four engineers into going on a blind date with me on such short notice.

I feel triply bad that she has to now cancel on three of them.

“That’s a lot of responsibility on your shoulders. How do you feel about it? Lil?”

I glance up from my mug of pumpkin spice latte, a seasonal drink on the menu that matches the colorful fall leaves on the trees outside the window.

My gaze connects with Hunter’s across the small circular table we’re sitting at, and I realize he’s still waiting for me to answer.

His voice is deep and oddly soothing, an attribute I never noticed before.

I furrow my brows in wonder. First, he threw me for a loop with his sans-glasses look, and now he’s acting like my therapist. How many ways can this guy surprise me today?

“Yeah, sorry. My mind’s all over the place. How do I feel? Guilty and responsible and basically like the worst sister in the world.”

“But is that reason enough for you to go out with a complete stranger?”

“In this situation, yes. And it’s not a complete stranger. I saw his picture, so I at least know what he looks like.”

“But do you know anything about him?”

“He’s an engineer, so he’s like us—good at math and problem solving, creative and analytical. He’s probably a fan of Star Wars or Star Trek, gaming, and Legos.”

“That’s the surfacy stuff. What if he’s a criminal or a gangster or someone who likes pineapple on their pizza?”

I balk. “What’s wrong with pineapple on pizza?”

Hunter recoils in horror. “Everything’s wrong with it. Who puts fruit on their pizza?”

“Everyone. Tomato is a fruit, and pizza sauce is made from tomatoes.” I quirk one brow and shoot him a “take that” look.

It’s no secret that I have a competitive streak.

Add to that the current state of life, and I’ll take all the victories I can get.

I pretend to dust my hands off as I announce, “Case closed.”

“All right, you win,” Hunter concedes with an amused grin. “I’ll have mercy on you since you’re already in such a pickle.”

I shiver as the image of me floating in a jar of acidic brine crosses my mind. “It’s kind of appropriate that you mention pickles. There’s a Chinese saying about eating vinegar?—”

“—that means you’re jealous,” he finishes for me without skipping a beat. He nods thoughtfully. “Are you jealous of your sister? It would make sense if you are.”

I don’t have time to wonder how Hunter is familiar with a Chinese idiom because I have to correct his assumption about my relationship with my sister. “I’m not jealous of Jasmine; I’m really not. I want the best for her. It’s just…”

“What?”

“There’s a tiny part of me that wishes I could be the younger sister for once. So I can throw aside my responsibilities and not have the pressure of living up to people’s expectations.” I lower my voice to a whisper and add, “I wish I could be irresponsible for just one day.”

Hunter’s eyes grow round. Either the caffeine from his cold brew has kicked in or I just shocked him with my confession. He leans in close and whispers back, “What do you mean by irresponsible?”

“Oh, nothing crazy! I’m talking about stuff like playing hooky so I can spend the day in bed reading, or not triple checking every email for typos before I send it, or letting my mom’s calls go to voicemail once in a while without feeling guilty about it.

” A loud sigh escapes my lips. “It’s the guilt that kills me.

But Jasmine can do all these things and more without feeling bad. It’s not fair.”

“You know what your problem is?”

I swallow hard. So much for expecting sympathy from Hunter. This is one time when I wish his engineering mind wasn’t so logical. “What’s my problem?”

He opens his mouth, then shuts it. Standing to his feet, he says, “Hold on a sec.”

I watch him walk off in the direction of the line where we’d gotten our drinks.

His head appears above everyone else’s, giving me a chance to observe his interactions with other people.

Unlike a lot of the guys in our department, Hunter doesn’t shy away from conversations.

He also has no problem talking to women, many of whom are stopping to chat with him today.

I’m guessing all this extra attention is due to his new look.

I wouldn’t be surprised if he gets asked out before the end of the day.

The thought leaves an unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach.

If only it was as easy for me to find love in the workplace.

It hasn’t been for lack of trying. I’ve gone on a handful of dates since I started working here, all initiated by me.

They were casual one-on-ones, and by casual, I mean I met with those guys in this very cafeteria.

Sometimes, if we were feeling adventurous, we’d eat outside on the terrace.

We’d trade programming stories and share a slice of cake.

I’d return to my cubicle and hope for them to ask me out again, but nothing ever happens.

Sigh. Dating shouldn’t be this hard, right? The problem has to lie with me. Apparently, Hunter thinks so. I tap my fingers on the table, impatiently waiting for him to return.

When he does a minute later, he sets a plate down before me. On it is a sad looking, dark brown blob. The scent of chocolate that fills my nose should make me smile, but my immediate reaction is one of confusion. “What. Is. This?”

“A brownie.”

“You mean it was a brownie. I know what a brownie looks like, and this is not it. This looks like something sat on it and squished it to pieces. The poor thing is as flat as a pancake!”

Hunter shrugs. “Are you judging the brownie based on what it looks like?”

“Of course, I am. If I asked for a brownie, I expect to get something that resembles one. ”

“Looks aren’t everything, Lil. It’s what’s on the inside that counts.” He picks up a fork, then spears a chunk of the brownie-wannabe and holds it up in front of me. “Here, try it.”

I groan, knowing exactly where he’s taking this. I’ve listened to enough self-help podcasts—most of which were recommended by my mother—to spot an analogy when I see one. “You want me to take a bite and say how good it is and that I shouldn’t judge a brownie based on its?—”

Before I can finish, he reaches across the table and sticks the piece in my mouth.

My jaw drops from shock, but I quickly clamp my lips together, so the brownie doesn’t fall out.

As soon as I do, my taste buds activate, and I start chewing to get more of the rich, decadent flavor.

The brownie’s crumbly bits are moist and chewy with a hint of sea salt.

As soon as I swallow the bite, I sit back and sigh.

I’m too far gone on my dopamine high; I can’t even get mad at Hunter for interrupting me.

“Still tastes like a brownie, doesn’t it? Case closed,” he adds, using my line from earlier. He gives me a satisfied grin before offering the fork to me. “Here, have more.”

“What do you mean by case closed?” Now that I have possession of the fork, I go to town on the brownie.

I’ve never had dessert before a meal before, but I throw caution to the wind.

If Hunter can work up the courage to try contact lenses, I can step out of my comfort zone a little, too. “This is so good.”

“There you go. It’s the same delicious brownie no matter what it looks like.

Just like you are the same amazing Lily Lam on the inside, no matter what you might be like on the outside.

Your problem is that you try so hard to be perfect, but no one can ever be.

You are allowed to be irresponsible once in a while,” he adds while making air quotes when he says that risky word that starts with an I.

I stop chewing. A lump grows in my throat that makes it hard to swallow, despite my longing for more chocolatey goodness.

This is one analogy I didn’t expect. While it sounds nice and somewhat reasonable, I can’t just give into a whim.

Every action has a reaction. Being irresponsible will only result in some kind of consequence that not only affects me but those around me.

I know Hunter means well, but he doesn’t understand what it’s like to be in my shoes.

Forcing the bite of brownie down, I set my fork aside and meet his gaze.

“I get what you’re saying. Of course, I know the only perfect person ever to walk this earth is Jesus.

But there is such a thing as almost perfect.

It’s like taking a test and scoring a 99%.

That’s all I want. I know I can’t be the perfect big sister a hundred percent of the time, but if I don’t get married ASAP, it won’t matter what else I do for Jasmine, I’ll have failed her. I have failed her already.”

“You’re not a failure, Lil.”

“Thanks for the pep talk, but it’s hard not to feel like one when your sister’s on the verge of tears every time she talks to you, and you know it’s your fault. You know what, I should join a convent. That’s the ultimate marriage, right? My parents can’t argue with that.”

Hunter’s brows shoot up high on his forehead. “You want to become a nun?”

“Not really. Can you imagine me wearing black every day?” I joke with a small smile.

“But I am serious about finding a husband. I’ll admit I haven’t been putting any real effort into it.

What I need are goals. Like how I have goals for how many ‘get ready with me’ videos I upload every week or how many books I read in a month.

How many men do you think I need to date in a week in order to find a husband by the end of the year? ”

“By the end of the year? That’s less than three months away!”

“Exactly. Jasmine turns thirty the day before Christmas. If I can get engaged by then, it’ll be the best birthday present ever. I won’t even need to get her anything for Christmas, even though she insists on getting two separate gifts every year.”

Hunter eyes me warily. “You’re serious about this?”

“Am I ever not serious?” I pick up my fork and start digging into the brownie again.

My appetite’s returned, along with a glimmer of hope that not all is lost. I just need to have a game plan in place.

Maybe if I take an analytical approach and research the statistics behind dating and finding a spouse, I’ll have better results.

There has to be a way for an engineer to figure this out—or even better, two engineers.

My gaze lands on Hunter and his unsuspecting blue eyes.

I’m so desperate, I don’t even hesitate when I ask, “Will you help me? Two brains are always better than one. What do you say?”

His Adam’s apple bops up and down as he swallows slowly. Then with a firm nod, he says, “My brain is at your service. Where do we start?”