Page 112 of It's Not PMS, It's You

Great.

Something told me the schooling wasn’t even close to being over.

“I’m guessing by the look on your grandmother’s face that she knows, too?”

“Of course, she knows. We’re women. We know everything.”

That appeared to be the case.

My mom grabbed my arm, almost knocking the pork slider off my plate. “Ruth is not your girlfriend? Why did you tell me that she was?”

“I never told you that.”

“Well then, she should be then! Heavens to Betsy, what are you doing?”

I shrugged. “Not enough, according to your granddaughter.”

“Well, she’s right. Do you know how wonderful Ruth is?”

“I do.”

“And do you know how fast someone will snag her off the market and put a ring on her finger if you’re not smart enough to do it first? How do you think that will make you feel if it happens? Would youlikethat to happen?”

I glanced over at Ruth and she happened to look my way.

We smiled at each other.

I shook my head. “No. I don’t want to see that happen.”

“Well, then? What are you waiting for?”

My mom was right.

They both were.

I needed to quit thinking.

I needed to quit analyzing every little thing.

Asking Ruth out on a date would be the perfect way to let her know my intentions.

“Dad? Why are you still standing here? Go! Conquer her!”

“I told you that she’s not a country.”

“Are we really going to argue semantics?” my daughter interjected.

I didn’t answer, walking past my family members in the barbecue line to grab Ruth another pork slider to replace the one I knocked over.

“No cutting, Nicky!” Uncle Steve said.

“I’m notcutting. I’m justlooking.” I glanced down at the empty cutting board where Jay had been shredding the pork. “Do you have more pork sliders?”

Jay placed a hot dog on a bun and handed it to my Aunt Julie. “You snooze, you lose. Back of the line or you’re going to start a riot.”

Crap.

I glanced down at the pork slider on my plate, knowing what I had to do.