Midnight Sommelier - Anne Malcom Page 0,14

in the world—the one not required to be my friend because she was related to me—losing her light. I may have been selfish and mopey, but I wasn’t that bad.

“He’s hottttt,” Alexis said, dragging out the word like some teenage girl. Fuck was I happy I didn’t get one of those. Alexis was still looking out the window, and I was still trying to wake up and remember what I was supposed to do for the day.

Drop the boys off at school. Come back home. Cry in the bathtub. Pay bills. Try to figure out how to get on with my life, make money, be a productive member of society instead of a wallowing bitch. Pick the boys up. Take them to whatever sports practice was happening today. Cook an arguably mediocre dinner, or hope Alexis was going to do that. Put my youngest boy to sleep. Wait until the oldest was out of sight in order to drink enough wine so I can lapse into unconsciousness for a couple of hours.

It was a full schedule that did not include leering at the new neighbor who I would not be welcoming into the cul de sac with fresh baked cookies. Plenty of bored housewives would do my job for me.

“He’s got a daughter too,” Alexis continued. “She’s cute.” A pause. “And I don’t see anyone else, you know, wife, husband ... My gaydar is great, but this man screams heterosexual bad boy with a big cock.”

I raised a brow at Alexis. Yes, she might’ve been an exercising, green juice drinking, little freak of nature, but her mouth was as dirty as a sailor’s.

“Well, go on then,” I said to her, waving my hand. “Trot over there and wave your pert little butt in his face. You can become a stepmother to a teenage girl.” I sipped my coffee. “And trust me, no cock is worth that.”

Alexis finally turned, which was good. I didn’t want this new neighbor seeing her gawking and come to any kind of conclusions.

“Not for me,” she said. “I’ve got a boyfriend.”

I struggled to stop myself from rolling my eyes. Ah, her boyfriend. The stuffed suit with too much gel in his hair and a stick up his ass. He didn’t suit Alexis at all. But she couldn’t see that, of course. Or she was willing herself not to see it. Her boyfriend was part of her five-year plan. He was raised to have manners, had a secure job and an acceptable sperm count. Yeah, she got that checked before she committed to him. Romance and passion were not important when measured up to financial security and procreation. Yeah, one of us was switched at birth for sure. As much as I didn’t understand her, I loved my sister.

“I see you rolling your eyes,” Alexis said, her gaze moving from the window.

“I am not rolling my eyes.”

“You are in your head.”

I frowned. “You can’t see inside my head.” If she could really see inside my head then she’d have had me committed a long time ago.

Alexis sighed. “I know you, Bridge. I also know this guy is exactly what you need.”

I turned away from her to pour more coffee and to start the boys’ breakfasts. I was planning on turning into June Cleaver instead of ... whatever I’d been lately, but the morning got away from me so instead of my intended pancakes, they were having cereal.

“A man is the last thing I need,” I said, setting their bowls down on the counter.

“You need to get back out there,” she said.

I turned to her. “Back out where?” I asked. “Into the shallow pool available for widowed mothers of two?”

She frowned at me. “You’re a catch.”

I scoffed. “Yeah, beyond the aforementioned widowship and children, I don’t have much else to add other than being a failed mommy blogger and a mediocre cook.”

“You’re not failed, you’re transitioning,” she replied, not fighting me on the ‘mediocre cook’ part of the conversation. My sister was a lot of things, but a liar wasn’t one of them.

“Transitioning,” I repeated. “Yeah, that’s a good way to put it.”

The blog had been dying a slow death. Slow because news had spread of my tragic loss and obviously strangers on social media sent an outpouring of support. Grief. All very nice.

But social media had an attention span. There was a time limit on grief. On my expected hiatus. I was supposed to bounce back from this loss with some positive, inspiring outlook. I was supposed