Not Your #Lovestory by Sonia Hartl

Author:Sonia Hartl [Hartl, Sonia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Page Street Publishing
Published: 2020-07-27T00:00:00+00:00

After dinner, Mom, Gram, Peg, and I sat in the living room to watch Wheel of Fortune. I sat at Mom’s feet in front of the recliner, and tried to check Twitter again, but Gram yelled at me. It was family time, not phone time.

“That’s Vanna’s best dress since Beach Week,” Peg said. I looked up from spacing out. Vanna White wore a maroon gown with a beaded empire waist and one strap over the shoulder. “She looks good in chartreuse.”

“That’s not chartreuse,” I said. “Chartreuse is a yellow green.”

Had I been out on the lake with Paxton only a few days ago? I was a mess. Even though the Baseball Babe stuff had given me the kind of subscribers I’d dreamed about, I hadn’t been sleeping well, my anxiety levels had gone through the roof, and my emotions were all over the place. I was in no position to make sound decisions about relationships. I could barely manage my fake one, forget about adding a real one into the mix. Crossing that line with Paxton while I was still trying to figure myself out wouldn’t do either of us any favors.

The show ended, and Gram turned her piercing gaze toward my mom. “Are you going out with that Roger again?”

My head whipped around. “Who’s Roger?”

“Cradle robber,” Gram grumbled.

“Bizzy.” Peg’s voice was a low warning. “He’s a nice boy.”

“Boy?” Gram wheezed as she laughed. “He ain’t no boy.”

“I’m seventy-five years old,” Peg said. “Everybody is a boy to me.”

“Would you knock it off, Mom? I don’t even want to bring Roger around for dinner because of you.” My mom glared at Gram. “And yes, we’re going out again tonight. The Royals game is playing at a bar in Shelbyville.”

“Um.” I held up a hand. “Who is Roger and what cradle is he robbing?”

“Roger is someone I’ve gone on a few dates with. He’s very kind and he’s a Royals fan.” Those two things were pretty much Mom’s only requirements in a man. “He lives in Shelbyville, and he happens to be a few years older than me.”

Gram snorted.

“How old is a few years older?” I asked.

“Fifty.” Mom crossed her arms, daring Gram to start in on him again.

“Ew,” I said. “I’m going to have to agree with Gram on the cradle robbing. Fifty is really old. Like, a-discount-at-the-car-wash old.”

“Excuse me?” Peg sputtered.

“Don’t worry.” I gave Peg my sweetest smile. “I think you’re really old too.”

Peg held up her fists. “Do you want to take this out back and see what old can do to smart-mouthed teenagers who don’t have any respect?”

“Anyway,” Gram cut in, trying to bring the conversation back to a serious tone so she could keep harping on Mom. “The cradle robber is also a fancy business owner.”

I turned back to my mom. “You’re dating a rich cradle robber?”

“He has a name,” she said. “And he owns three businesses in broken-down, pass-through towns. I wouldn’t exactly call him rich.”

“Richer than us,” I said.

“Baby girl, if I turned down every man richer than us, I’d never date again.

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