Read Online Dating Kosher by Michaela Greene - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michaela Greene
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the kinds of sandwiches you normally only get at showers and bridal teas. Three-layer egg salad fingers with the crusts cut off, cream cheese and lox pinwheels brought to the table on a tiered platter. Yum, they were my fav.
“So how are the wedding plans going?”
Susan was still smiling, but she blinked repeatedly behind her Christian Dior sunglasses and her knuckles went white on the wheel. It didn’t take a Ph.D. to see that she was stressed to the max. But Susan was everything a lady was supposed to be: demure, refined and the epitome of polite. “Oh, you know, little snags here and there, but fine.”
“Somehow I don’t believe you,” I said. “I hope it doesn’t have anything to do with my mother.”
The light turned from yellow to red in front of us. Once the car was stopped, Susan turned, took off her sunglasses and looked at me. She looked like she was close to tears. “It does. Your father wants to invite her.”
My dad had mentioned to me on a Sunday morning a while back, before the invitations had gone out, that he wanted to invite my mother to the wedding ‘out of respect.’ I told him he was crazy and asking for trouble. I had thought that had been the end of it. Apparently not.
“I’m really sorry, Susan,” I said, feeling bad since the drama wasn’t entirely her fault. (She had been the other woman, knowing Dad was married when she got mixed up with him, but Dad was also responsible and didn’t need to make his new wife suffer just because he felt guilty about the old wife.)
She sighed. “It’s not your concern. I don’t mean to burden you…”
“I know, but I feel bad. Let me see if I can talk to Dad. I’ll call him at the office this afternoon when you drop me off.”
She sighed, relieved. “Thank you, I really appreciate it. But only if you’re sure you don’t mind.”
“No problem,” I said. I was used to playing mediator; I had been one between my parents for years leading up to the divorce. “So tell me about some of the other stuff. Do you have everything else ironed out?”
Her face brightened. “Well the flowers are all ordered and the menu is set. We did the seating plan the other night.” She turned left into the parking lot of Tulips. “You and Max are sitting with family, of course.”
Shit. “Um, Max and I broke up.” No point sugar-coating it.
Susan put the car into park and looked at me. “Oh, Shosh, that’s too bad, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
I shrugged. I was over Max before I was out of his apartment. What I was less over was the idea of going to the wedding without a date.
She pulled the keys out of the ignition. “C’mon let’s go inside, you can tell me about it.”
I unbuckled the seat belt. Sure, what do you want to hear about first? His atrocious attempts at sex or his bad breath? I thought as I got out of the car.
* * *
“So tell me what happened with Max,” Susan said once we were seated and the waitress had been dispatched to bring us each an iced tea (strawberry for me, green for Susan).
“It’s just over,” I said, looking around the restaurant to see if I recognized anyone. Nope, not a one. I turned back to Susan. “There was no future for us, so there was no point continuing.” Susan didn’t need to hear the whole story.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said.
“It’s okay.”
“Are you bringing someone else to the wedding?”
If it kills me. “I’m hoping to.” I smiled, hoping the stress of not having a date with only three weeks to find one wasn’t showing on my face.
“Well if not, don’t worry, my son will be on his own also.”
If there had been even a nanosecond that I had thought going stag might just be okay, she had just completely quashed the idea. There was a major reason why her son Jacob would be attending alone: he was a huge loser. Not only did he attempt (note I say attempt ) to hit on me every time he saw me, but he wore thick glasses, bad-fitting clothes over his pudgy body
“So how are the wedding plans going?”
Susan was still smiling, but she blinked repeatedly behind her Christian Dior sunglasses and her knuckles went white on the wheel. It didn’t take a Ph.D. to see that she was stressed to the max. But Susan was everything a lady was supposed to be: demure, refined and the epitome of polite. “Oh, you know, little snags here and there, but fine.”
“Somehow I don’t believe you,” I said. “I hope it doesn’t have anything to do with my mother.”
The light turned from yellow to red in front of us. Once the car was stopped, Susan turned, took off her sunglasses and looked at me. She looked like she was close to tears. “It does. Your father wants to invite her.”
My dad had mentioned to me on a Sunday morning a while back, before the invitations had gone out, that he wanted to invite my mother to the wedding ‘out of respect.’ I told him he was crazy and asking for trouble. I had thought that had been the end of it. Apparently not.
“I’m really sorry, Susan,” I said, feeling bad since the drama wasn’t entirely her fault. (She had been the other woman, knowing Dad was married when she got mixed up with him, but Dad was also responsible and didn’t need to make his new wife suffer just because he felt guilty about the old wife.)
She sighed. “It’s not your concern. I don’t mean to burden you…”
“I know, but I feel bad. Let me see if I can talk to Dad. I’ll call him at the office this afternoon when you drop me off.”
She sighed, relieved. “Thank you, I really appreciate it. But only if you’re sure you don’t mind.”
“No problem,” I said. I was used to playing mediator; I had been one between my parents for years leading up to the divorce. “So tell me about some of the other stuff. Do you have everything else ironed out?”
Her face brightened. “Well the flowers are all ordered and the menu is set. We did the seating plan the other night.” She turned left into the parking lot of Tulips. “You and Max are sitting with family, of course.”
Shit. “Um, Max and I broke up.” No point sugar-coating it.
Susan put the car into park and looked at me. “Oh, Shosh, that’s too bad, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
I shrugged. I was over Max before I was out of his apartment. What I was less over was the idea of going to the wedding without a date.
She pulled the keys out of the ignition. “C’mon let’s go inside, you can tell me about it.”
I unbuckled the seat belt. Sure, what do you want to hear about first? His atrocious attempts at sex or his bad breath? I thought as I got out of the car.
* * *
“So tell me what happened with Max,” Susan said once we were seated and the waitress had been dispatched to bring us each an iced tea (strawberry for me, green for Susan).
“It’s just over,” I said, looking around the restaurant to see if I recognized anyone. Nope, not a one. I turned back to Susan. “There was no future for us, so there was no point continuing.” Susan didn’t need to hear the whole story.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said.
“It’s okay.”
“Are you bringing someone else to the wedding?”
If it kills me. “I’m hoping to.” I smiled, hoping the stress of not having a date with only three weeks to find one wasn’t showing on my face.
“Well if not, don’t worry, my son will be on his own also.”
If there had been even a nanosecond that I had thought going stag might just be okay, she had just completely quashed the idea. There was a major reason why her son Jacob would be attending alone: he was a huge loser. Not only did he attempt (note I say attempt ) to hit on me every time he saw me, but he wore thick glasses, bad-fitting clothes over his pudgy body
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