Alexander Skarsgard, is Swedish? Or is he Finnish?
Oh well. It doesn’t matter; she won’t know the difference.
Also, I’m pretty sure there’s supposed to be an accent mark above one of those a’s, but hell if I know what that is or how to get my iPhone to do it.
My cell buzzes with an incoming call from Mom, and I can’t hide my smile when I hit decline. I know I probably shouldn’t mess with Rose Lucie this much, but I can’t help it. Considering all the shenanigans she’s recently tossed my way, my lovely mother deserves a little teasing.
Mom: Ava, why aren’t you answering my call?! You better explain yourself! Fast!
Me: Fine. I can see my new marriage to Sven is upsetting to you, so I’ll request an annulment. Consider my marriage canceled. No more Sven. No more free Swedish Fish. No more future citizenship to Sweden.
Mom: AVA!!!!!
Me: What, Mom? I thought you wanted me to get married.
Mom: Not like this!
I can’t help but laugh.
Me: Relax, Mom. I’m not married.
Mom: But you DO have a new boyfriend that you haven’t told me about, right??? Can I just say that I’m so excited to meet him!
Sigh. This is exactly why you should never lie about anything. It always comes back to bite you in the ass. Not only have I hooked my reunion’s hopes on finding someone, now my mother has probably blown half her money at David’s Bridal “just in case.”
Mom: Is it too early for me to start asking what kind of food he likes since you guys will be here for two weeks in December? I want to make sure I have my fridge stocked with all his favorites so he feels at home! ☺
See what I mean? She’s already trying to get a fucking grocery list together for a month from now.
Mom: Oh, and I want to make sure he has something under the tree from us to open on Christmas morning! You need to give me some gift ideas!
And the texts just keep on coming…
Mom: And his name! I need to know all about this new fella of yours! Oh my gosh, this is so exciting! I mean, I’m mad at you for not telling me, but I forgive you, sweetie.
Shit.
Don’t lie, kids. Or else you’ll have to deal with the backlash of your mom buying your imaginary boyfriend a wristwatch off Etsy and finding out on Christmas morning that you don’t have a boyfriend, and then your dad will probably start wearing the damn wristwatch, and every time your meddling mother sees it, she’ll remind you about that time you lied about having a boyfriend, and then it will just become this ongoing thing for the rest of your freaking life.
Although, right now, I’m going to have to not practice what I preach. Instead, I’ll hold on to the fragile hope that I will somehow find the man of my dreams in the next couple days and fix all my problems the unconventional way.
Seeing that my train is only a minute away from my final stop in Chelsea, I type out a quick message that will end this insane conversation—for now.
Me: Mom, I gotta run, but I’ll be sure to tell you all the details soon.
Her response—I can’t wait!—comes a few seconds later, followed by ten freaking smiley-face emojis.
Hey, God, it’s me, Ava. Can you, uh, do me a huge favor and make tonight’s date with Mark be the equivalent of a real-life Hallmark movie? Or is that asking too much?
The train comes to a stop, and I slip my phone back into my purse and step onto the platform with the rest of the crowd. It takes me a good five minutes just to get up the steps and onto the sidewalk thanks to how crowded it is, but once I reach the outside, the brisk, late-fall air brushes against my face and provides a much-needed emotional cooldown.
Three blocks later, I stop in front of Art New Vogue, a popular gallery in Chelsea and the very place I’ll be meeting my date.
Thankfully, this time, I had the foresight of sneaking a reminder peek at his profile picture before I hopped on the subway, and when I grab the black metal handle of the large glass door and step inside, I spot him.
Light-brown hair, gray eyes, and tanned skin covered by a white collared shirt, navy suit, and matching tie, Mark Dawson stands near the reception desk of the gallery with a khaki trench coat