Page 101 of That Friendzone Feeling

“Iwas going to, butIonly got back yesterday.Andthings have been”—Ibrush away a silent, out-of-control tear—“hectic with work and starting to look for a place to live.Allthose kinds of things.”

“Areyou all right?”There’sa hint of genuine maternal concern in her voice. “Doyou have a cold?”

That’sa good excuse for the giant sniffIneed to stop a trickle of snot dripping from my nose. “Abit of one.MaybeIpicked it up on the plane.”

“Well,I’msure you’ll be fine.”That’sthe motherly concern done with. “Now, then.Tellme all aboutChaseCooper.”There’sa smile in her voice, as if she’s batting her eyelashes at him as we speak.

Mybackside is going numb on the hardwood floor.Iheave my leaden body to my feet, pick up my laptop, and wander back into the living room.

“Oh, he’s amazing.”Doesthat sound as excited as any normal human would be at having spent a day with him? “He’severything you think he is.”

“Really?”Momgasps. “It’snot all image, then?Hereally isperfect?”

Iplace my computer on the coffee table and flop ontoWalker’senormous gray wool sofa.

“Yup.He’sas perfect a human asIhave ever met.He’sreally smart and funny and charming.”

“Andsexy,”Momadds.

“Ihadn’t finished, but yes.Definitelyhot.Andhe has a good heart, you know?He’snot one of those womanizing types.”

Andthat man is interested inme.I’dhave been mad not to agree to go out with him next week.Walker’sthirty seconds thing can’t apply in all cases.Noteveryone knows who the right person is immediately.

Itdoesn’t make turningWalkeraway any easier or less devastating.Buthe can’t be my right person.Ican’t let him be.

“AndChaseis starting a foundation to give inmates acting lessons and put plays on in prisons,”ItellMom.

There’sa fraction of silence on her end of the line. “Oh.”

Howcan one person cram so much puzzlement and disappointment into one two-letter word?Ican almost hear her screwing up her face.

“Hemust be incredibly wealthy,” she says, flicking her switch back to excitement and interest.She’sexhausting.

“Guessso.He’sbacking our resort, andIthink he’s looking at other investments too.Heseems pretty money-wise.Andhe has great ideas forToastedTomato.Hesuggested he could help us to—”

“Didyou go to his house?What’sit like?”

Iclose my eyes and sigh quietly at her consistent lack of interest in anything non-superficial.

“Ididn’t go to his house, no.”

Iswing my legs up onto the sofa and fall onto my back.Thisthing is so long that with my head on the throw pillows at one end, my feet don’t touch the other.

“Youwere there all that time, and you didn’t see his house?”

“Itwasn’t really that type of trip.Itwas all business.”

“Well,Ilooked it up.”Ofcourse she did. “It’sin theHollywoodHillsand has the most spectacular view.There’san infinity pool that looks out over the city.Andthe article says he has a beach home inMalibutoo.”

Whatcould be more like my mother than to be instantly on top of an eligible man’s real estate portfolio?

“Right.We’revery lucky he wants to work with us.He’shappy to appear in ads, which should help us grow quicker than we were planning.Andhe wants to help us expand into parts of the world where he’s famous, places that might have taken longer for us to break into.”

“Sodoes that mean you’ll be spending quite a lot of time with him?”

ShouldItell her about next week’s date?Orwait and see how it goes first?Asmuch asI’dlove to hear her explode with joy at the news, maybeIshould keep that powder dry for now.

“We’llbe spending some time with him, yes.He’seager to be hands-on with ideas and suggestions, andWalkerandIare eager to listen to what he has to say.”