“Are you ever lonely? Do you ever miss having someone by your side? Someone to curl up and watch a movie with or just to make dinner with every night?”
She sits back and tilts her head. “Of course. People need companionship for sure. But this notion that you need to be with another person for the rest of your life is archaic.”
“A person needs intimacy though.”
“Friendships are conducive to a healthy mental state, married or not. It’s the people you surround yourself with who matter most. You’re a prime example. Look at your life. Between your work, the people you meet at these book signings and conventions, your socialization … you seem to be doing just fine by yourself.”
I am doing just fine, and yet the words sting my soul.
She’s right. I am doing fine on my own.
I’m also turning into her. I’m at odds with if that’s a good or bad thing.
A knock on my door, thankfully, takes me out of my downward spiral. I put my mug on the table and walk to the door.
Jake is there, holding a plate of brownies. “Thought you could use a sugar boost,” he says with the sweetest grin.
“Who’s that?” my mom calls out.
I take the brownies from him. “I’d run if I were you.”
Jake looks around my shoulder, and his eyes widen at the sight of my mom. He’s met her once before in the hallway about a year ago, and he knows she can be a bit intense. By intense, I mean, she asked him a thousand questions about his personal life, sex life, work life, and where he stood on politics. I didn’t know him well enough, so when I saw she had cornered him, I hid in the hall, too mortified to make an appearance until he escaped and I heard Mom’s footsteps coming my way.
“Who’s there?” Mom asks again, walking toward the door.
I move to the side, so she can see. “You remember my neighbor, Jake.”
She waves him over and holds an arm out for him to take a seat. “Come in! Join our conversation.”
“About what?” he asks with a furrowed brow.
“You don’t want to be part of this,” I explain as he crosses the threshold.
“Nonsense.” My mom waves me off. “We were just discussing how men are probably better off with roaming through life rather than being held down to one woman.”
With an ease in his walk, he heads inside and takes a seat on my sofa. “I’m intrigued.”
“I was telling Lacey how her books give women false notions of romance.”
“How so?” he asks.
“With my books filled with fluff and romance, Mom thinks I’m filling their heads with fantasy when I should be handing them reality.”
“Your mom does have a point,” he says, turning to me. “My sister Penelope has watched The Notebook a thousand times, and she’s still waiting for her real-life Noah to build her a house as an undying testament of his love and affection.”
“See?” Mom says with a cheeky grin.
“However”—he pivots toward Mom—“my mother and sisters love Lacey’s words, and I think they’re better for reading them,” Jake says proudly as he sits a little taller, like he’s protective of me.
“They read my books?” I ask him, not sure how I feel about his mom reading my words.
He grins. “Yeah. After you came by the shop, my mom bought them each a copy on Amazon, and they read together, like a mini book-club thing. You have three new fans.”
“You said you think they’re better for reading her books?” she asks him.
“My mother gave me an earful about it while we were at the shop. She thinks Lacey is brilliant.”
“Really?” I ask, turning to him, surprised and completely touched.
“Milène too. Penelope read three of your books in as many days. That girl is already cyberstalking you on social media, so beware when your inbox blows up with love notes.”
“I’ll consider myself warned.” I chuckle under my breath.
Jake crosses his leg over his knee and engages my mother in conversation. “I don’t know or understand the female brain, but I think, with romance—particularly the books that Lacey writes—it helps women escape the reality of kids and work and household chores and brings them back to what it was like when they first met their husbands. At least that’s what my sister said. It reminded her of the good days and how that love is still there even if it’s buried somewhere in the craziness of life. As for my other sister who is single, I think it will give her hope, albeit a false sense in some ways, but at least she has that notion that love is out there.”
My smile is a mile wide as I listen to him speak.
“I like you, Jake. You’re very diplomatic. I’d love to know, why aren’t you married?”
He makes a pretend gesture, as if he’s going to get up and leave because the conversation turned uncomfortable, then takes his seat again. “I just haven’t found the right woman.”
“Picky?” she asks.
“Very,” he states with a laugh. “I’m not the type to settle, so I’m waiting until I’m with the right girl.”
His eyes meet mine, and I instantly take a drink from my mug, which is now empty.
“Looking for the right woman … so in the meantime, you’re having a blast with all the wrong ones?” Mom chuckles.
He grins. “There’s nothing wrong with that. I don’t string anyone along. I date and dare-I-say I’ve even loved a few. But I’ve never been in love. If I don’t feel like I can make that life-long commitment, then I make sure to let them know.”
Mom snaps her fingers and points one at me. “That. Have you ever written a character who treats women like that?”
I turn toward my computer and grimace. I have actually. As in right now. My hero is a romantic who refuses to settle, so he’s dating his way around the city, waiting for the perfect woman.
In this moment, I realize just
