I Hate, I Bake, and I Don’t Date! by Alina Jacobs
44
Tess
“Uhhh no.”
I slammed my phone down.
“He didn’t like the picture?” Maeve asked, peering at my phone.
“He liked it too much,” I said, picking up my container of macaroni and cheese and shoveling some into my mouth. The Sparrow and Thyme was serving a five-cheese macaroni with cavatappi noodles and a delicious parmesan, bread crumb, and parsley topping. I was barely able to taste it as I spun out about the date.
“Look at you, going on a date with a billionaire!” Maeve poked me.
“I’m not going. I don’t date,” I said, scarfing down the rest of the pasta.
“Did he give a hint where he was taking you?” Holly asked as she came by with another plate of macaroni and cheese.
“You looked like you needed a top off.” She slid the plate in front of me.
I accepted it gratefully.
“You guys already have been on dates,” Maeve said, sliding my phone to Holly, who exclaimed, “Good lord!” when she saw the picture.
“I’m surprised that he wanted to wait until this evening,” Holly remarked.
“She’s got a perfect gentleman on her hands, or rather, she’s on his hand!” Maeve joked.
“He better do more than use his hands,” Holly said.
“Forget that. I can’t date him.”
“Then why’d you send him a topless photo?” Holly asked.
“Because I want to hook up with him, you know, enemies with benefits. Now I have to shave. I have to do my hair. I have to figure out what to wear. Oh my god, I don’t have anything to wear!” I wailed.
“We will help you pick something,” Holly said, starting to text on my phone. “First, we need to figure out where he’s taking you.”
“Maybe it’s a yacht!” Maeve said. “Or maybe he’s flying you to a secluded chalet.”
“I should just prod him into coming home early. We’ll do the deed, and I can order Chinese.”
“That’s not romantic,” Maeve protested.
“I don’t need romance,” I argued. “I have my romance novels for that. You know—” I drew squares in my mac ‘n’ cheese with my fork. “Compartmentalization.”
I took another bite of my pasta. “I hate dating. I hate everything about it.”
“Your mom wasn’t doing dating right,” Holly said, patting me on the hand.
“Really? Because she had a date with a new guy multiple times a week. She would date them for a few weeks then bring them over and be like this is your new dad. Until he would inevitably open a credit card in her or my name, pawn the TV, or move in just to sit on the couch, drinking beers all day because, for some reason, Mom thought that you could find marriageable men at the local honky-tonk bar,” I said, still furious. “I want no part in that.”
“But you have Beck, and he’s not going to be caught dead at a honky-tonk bar. This is a nice date.”
“You said that about Kaden,” I reminded Maeve, crossing my arms.
“Kaden was a miscalculation on my part,” she admitted. “But Beck is a billionaire.”
“And my boss.”
“People date their bosses.”
“I don’t date. I do casual sex.”
“Actually, you don’t do much of that either.” Maeve snorted.
“I was going to start with Beck,” I said primly. “We would get it all out of our systems, then after his sisters’ adoption went through, we would go our separate ways.”
“Just think of this date with Beck as a growth opportunity,” Holly insisted. “You’re broadening your horizons. It might be fun!”
“You at least will get a nice meal out of it,” Maeve prodded. “You like nice food.”
“He’s taking you to that place on tenth, the Nordic restaurant,” Holly said, waving the phone at me.
“You have to wear something Nordic goddess-like,” Maeve said dramatically.
“I’m not going,” I replied, though I was wavering. I had wanted to go to that Nordic restaurant since forever. It was right there on my list of places to eat before I died because I knew I was never going to have the money to travel, so eating gourmet food was about as adventurous as it was going to get for me.
“They have that bread, the one you grill at the table.” Maeve showed me the video on her phone.
“Okay fine, but you have to help me pick out something to wear.”
“Doyou think Enola and Annie can sew you another dress?” Holly asked.
We were at Beck’s condo. Holly had had one of her employees mind the shop so she could pop by and help me find something to wear. Except that everything I tried on I, well, popped out of.
“You force-fed me mac ‘n’ cheese!” I wailed, collapsing on my fainting couch.
“You put that in your own mouth.”
“You should have stopped me!”
Maeve flipped through my closet to see if something would magically appear. She pulled out a bright-pink sweater dress that had silk flowers sewn on it.
“Why did you even buy this?”
“I was drunk shopping; it was only five dollars. I thought it was going to be fun sleepwear.”
“I’m sure if you crawled into Beck’s bed wearing that, you’d have a lot of fun!” Holly said with a grin.
“What am I going to do! I’m not going to eat that special bread.” I pulled up the Nordic restaurant’s Instagram to salivate over their meals. They advertised it as a food experience. Five hours, twenty-six courses. And I was going to have none of it because I had nothing to wear.
Holly snapped her fingers. “This building has a concierge, right? We’ll ask them for help. Maybe they can work some magic.”
I dialed the front desk, putting the call on speakerphone.
“This is Vera at 101 Park Place tower! If you are calling about purchasing a unit and want to know if those hot men are still hanging around, then you will be happy to know they are! We are organizing hot guy sightseeing tours as well, every Tuesday and Thursday.”
“Uh… is this not the concierge?”
“She had a doctor’s appointment, so I’m stepping in to be neighborly,” Vera said cheerily. “Also, there’s only so much strip bingo you can take.”
Oof.
“How can I help you?”
“Never mind, I’ll just buy a dress online.”
“You need a dress?” Vera exclaimed. “Say no more. You can call me your fairy god-neighbor. I love a party, and I have a ton of dresses you can borrow. My boobs aren’t as nice as yours, but I’ll bring over some options.”
“I don’t think—”
“No need to thank me!” she sang. “I’ll be right over.”
When the doorbell rang five minutes later, I barely had time to greet Vera before she was bustling into the living room with an armful of dresses that looked like they had had their heyday in 1983.
“I have to get back,” Vera said, heading for the door. “Come by before you leave and let me know which one you picked. I have Hyacinth in charge. You’d think someone who used to work as a phone operator would have an easier time manning the front desk, but she just can’t seem to handle the touch screen. It probably doesn’t help that she starts drinking at ten in the morning.”
“Oh my god,” I said, looking through what Vera had brought. “I can’t wear any of these.”
“It’s one of these or the sweater dress,” Holly reminded me. She held up a dress. “Can’t go wrong with black.”
I tried to squeeze it on, but it barely made it over my hips.
“Maybe one with a bit more give?” Holly said, holding up another.
“I need to go shopping,” I decided.
My phone chimed.
Beck:On my way over with the girls.
Beck:We have to be there by six or we lose our spots.
“Oh my gosh, who eats dinner that early!” I said in a panic.
“To be fair,” Maeve said, rummaging through the pile of synthetic fabric, “if it’s twenty-six courses, you’d need to start early so you’re not there until three in the morning.”
“Just wear whichever one fits,” Holly urged.
A ridiculous pink dress fit over my hips but barely covered my boobs, a cute polka-dot dress that I wouldn’t have minded fit, but as Maeve said, “You’re going to lean over the table, and those things are just going to fall right out onto the plate.”
The last dress was a black velvet cocktail dress, which wouldn’t have been so bad except that it had a collar made up of oversized pink, purple, and green bows. It was quintessential eighties.
“I look crazy!” I wailed.
“I think Princess Diana wore a dress like this,” Holly assured me, zipping me up.
“Your body looks smoking in it.” Maeve bumped my hip.
“And the bows cover up some of the cleavage,” Holly added, neatening them. “Look, the one in the center has rhinestones! You’re like a pretty present that Beck is going to want to unwrap.”
