Coffee Cup Confessions - Trish Williford Page 0,8

in the eye of the beholder. Tell me what happened.”

For a moment, I contemplate telling Mandy that Misha and I hit it off and that I didn’t act for even a second while she was here, but I think better of it. It’s obvious that Mandy is quite jealous of her sister for some reason, so I decide to play it off.

“She came in. I flirted. She bought it. Her fake date stood her up. I came to the rescue. I got her number. She left. Mission accomplished.”

“What did you guys talk about?”

“Her blind date before she was stood up. She claims that she’s been dating but you haven’t listened to her.”

“She’s so full of crap.”

“Either way, I figure I’ll take her out for dinner in a week or so. At the end of the date, I’ll tell her although I think she’s great, I’m not looking for a relationship. What do you think?”

“Can you try for Saturday? Sundays, we have our family dinners, and I’d hate for her to have to miss one of those.”

“Yeah, whatever. I’ll let you know when it is for sure.”

“Great. Thanks so much, Jake. You’re the best. I’ll have your second check after the next date.”

The first check for twenty-five hundred dollars, which is currently in my wallet, now feels dirty, and I have a strong desire to rip it into pieces. Now that I’ve met Misha and she seems cool as hell, I could see myself at the very least hanging out with her and becoming friends.

“Jake, did you hear me?” Mandy’s high-pitched voice interrupts my thoughts.

“Yeah, that’s great. Thanks, Mandy. I’ll let you know when the next date is scheduled.” I push the End Call button and sigh heavily into the empty space.

I knew this was a bad idea.

My sister, Carrisa, is eleven years younger than me. When I was first told that my status as an only child would change, I was pissed. I was used to not competing for attention, and I thought having a sibling would ruin my life. Pretty much, I was the epitome of a spoiled brat.

That feeling disappeared on an October afternoon when my parents came home from the hospital with the smallest human I’d ever seen, wrapped in a fuzzy pink blanket in my mother’s arms. I remember taking one look at my new sister and falling in love instantly. Somehow, my views on being an only child were forgotten, and I became fiercely protective of her.

Over the last twenty years, I’ve watched her grow into the young woman she is, and two things have changed: I stepped into more of a father role, and I’m even more protective than before.

When our mother became sick right after I graduated college, it was too much for our father to handle. The woman he’d claimed to love more than life itself was ill, and he said the thought of losing her was unbearable. His solution to the problem was to walk out on us, leaving me at twenty-three to care for my twelve-year-old sister and my cancer-stricken mother.

Carrisa, now twenty, is enrolled in an interior design college in New York City. She and I text or call daily; it’s our number one rule. I’m not thrilled about her living in a large city four hours away, but she’s fulfilling her dream. I miss not having her here—unless she’s in an invasive mood like she is tonight.

“You look weird … like you have something on your mind.”

Why I suggested video chat tonight is beyond me. She can read me like a book, and I knew she would point it out.

“I’m tired.”

“You’re a really shitty liar, you know. You didn’t even try to convince me with a yawn or a stretch. Spill.” Her bright blue eyes stare me down over the phone, and they remind me so much of Mom when she would interrogate me as a teenager.

“Come on. I’m not in the mood.” Setting the phone against my computer, I lean back in my desk chair and rub my hands over my face.

I really don’t want to admit to my younger sister that I’m torn as hell about the situation with Misha. Not only would she virtually dick-punch me for my deal with Mandy, but she’d also hound me relentlessly about asking Misha out.

Carrisa’s mouth drops, and then an excited grin comes across her face. “Is there a girl you’re interested in?”

“Knock it off,” I warn.

The picture on the phone turns from still to bouncing as she squeals