Who You Know by Theresa Alan

Author:Theresa Alan [Alan, Theresa]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Contemporary Women
ISBN: 9781617733864
Google: lW9GAQAAQBAJ
Amazon: B005Q63QOA
Barnesnoble: B005Q63QOA
Goodreads: 883062
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2003-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Trapped in Nebraska

Greg and I had met at my Psycho Landlady’s Christmas party two years earlier. I rented a room in a house from her when I first got my job teaching. It wasn’t so much what she said that made it clear she was mentally unbalanced, but this way in which she would in one instant treat me like her best friend and in the next look at me like I’d just slaughtered her puppy. I was an emotional, moody person myself, so I had a high tolerance for people whose moods swung dramatically, but her highs and lows were so extreme, so sudden, they could scare someone far braver than I.

I didn’t want to go to the Psycho Landlady’s Christmas party, but I didn’t want her to hate me. After all, she had my deposit. I was just going to pop in and make an appearance and then leave.

Greg worked with one of her friends, which is how he ended up at the party. He was sitting on the couch by himself, and I was trying not to look like the complete friendless dork that I was. I thought that he was cute, but in a nerdy, nonthreatening way that gave me the confidence to sit down and ask him if he was a friend of my landlady. We talked for the rest of the night. We had been talking for hours when his friend came up to Greg and said he was ready to go and Greg said, “Well, it was nice to meet you,” and just left. Without asking me for my number. I was crushed; I’d thought we’d really hit it off. But then, a few minutes later, just before I was about to leave, he came back in and asked, all awkward and shy, would I maybe like to go get a cup of coffee sometime? I said I’d love it and gave him my phone number.

By our second date, I knew we were going to get married. We’d gone Christmas shopping together and, as we waited in line at the cash register, he joked around with a little girl who was standing in line with her mother in front of us. He made the girl squeal with laughter. Watching this big, tall guy making these funny faces, making this little girl laugh, not at all concerned with looking hip or cool . . . his sweet grin, the genuine pleasure he got from playing around with her . . . he just seemed like such a sweetheart. Right away I could envision us as an old couple, shuffling along the beach together, arm-in-arm.

Your future in-laws, of course, aren’t something you consider when you’re busy falling in love. If I’d been smarter, I’d have fallen for a guy whose parents lived somewhere interesting like New York or San Francisco. Greg’s family wasn’t the most thrilling group of people, and spending a four-day weekend with them seemed an interminable amount of time. I had precious few days off, and this was not how I wanted to spend them.

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