The Yes Factor - Erin Spencer Page 0,3

don’t have a date,” I protest, but I’m quickly drowned out.

“Oh, really? Do tell!” Samantha says, more loudly than she needs to.

I wave Samantha off like it’s nothing. Because it is. Unless a date with Ben & Jerry’s counts.

“You’re going like that?” Samantha looks me up and down. “I just went shopping and got the cutest bracelets. They’re in my car, you can borrow them. Just to add a pop of color, you know?” She scrutinizes my jeans and black one pocket tee. “Do you want me to go get ’em?”

“Oh, no, really, but thanks. I don’t have a date tonight, or any night. I’m solidly single.” The note of depression in my tone is undeniable. I try to recover with a little too much enthusiasm. “I’m focusing on my career!”

With a look of dramatic sympathy, Samantha says, “Oh, Bex, you should really be getting out there!” She pulls her phone out of her purse and begins scrolling quickly. “I have just the man for you. He’s Hal’s new financial adviser, recently divorced, a little pudgy but great hair, and he…”

And so it begins. I zone out as she rambles on, detailing Hal’s stats and specs.

This is perhaps the worst thing about being single—married people who always try to set me up with some recently divorced guy. As if just by virtue of being divorced, we’ll automatically be the right fit for each other. My married friends are always so insistent that I have to meet “so and so” and then when I do finally meet him, it’s apparent we have nothing in common other than our mutual friends.

“That’s nice of you, Samantha, thank you so much, but honestly, I’m just doing me right now. Maybe down the road, okay?”

“Okay, sweetie. If you say so.” She smiles at me with a look of pity and gives me a little pat on the shoulder. Then she saunters over toward the bus to help her daughter load her suitcase.

Maddie seems to have woken up from her sulky mood of the car ride and bounds over to a few friends who are waving to her from the bus. I grab her bags that she’s left beside me and do a waddling walk over to the bus, weighed down by whatever it is she’s packed.

“Maddie, honey, here, your bags.” I stand a few feet away from the giggling circle of Maddie and her friends.

“Mom,” she walks over to me, “don’t call me honey, please.”

I lean over to give her a quick kiss and a hug.

“Ew, Mom, stop. I’m just going away for two weeks.” She wriggles out of my arms.

Teenagers.

“Now listen, Maddie. I put a little, blue cosmetic bag in your duffel with some supplies, in case you need them,” I whisper in her ear, knowing she’s been worried about starting her period while away from home.

“Thanks, Mom.” Maddie gives me a quick worried look, then hugs me. I relish it. My little girl is growing up.

As she scampers into the bus, I cross my arms, subconsciously giving myself a hug and thinking about how quiet the house will be when I get home.

Liv

“You look fabulous, my love!” Clarissa says, air kissing me on both cheeks.

“Hello, Liv. You do look ravishing. That dress fits you like a glove.” Alan reaches for my hand and kisses it.

Ugh, when is #metoo going to hit the senior ranks of these centuries-old law firms.

“Oh, this, thanks.” I gesture to my dress. “I got lucky on an eBay auction and the purse is a long ago hand-me-down from my best friend Bex.”

God, I miss Bex at times like this. We’d have a field day making fun of these fussy one-percenters. Even though I’ve been accompanying Ethan to events like this for years, I still feel out of my depth. Before Ethan, the closest I got to a black-tie event with waiters circulating canapes on silver trays was crashing wedding receptions at the Four Seasons in Atlanta—which I’m not ashamed to say Bex and I did a few times. It was definitely the best way for a broke college student to get a free drink. In hindsight, we weren’t being as rebellious as I thought we were. Black tie and fancy hotels were such a novelty for me then; I might as well have been on Mars. But Bex grew up going to cotillions at the country club and five-star hotel ballroom wedding receptions of her dad’s business associates. Even at college, she knew how to act and blend in