“That’s sounds great.” I smile, knowing my father’s job as the leading heart surgeon in Missouri leaves him exhausted most weeks.
“We want you to join us. We are taking a cruise to Cancun.”
“Wow, that’s … amazing … but honestly a week locked on a boat with you, I might not survive.”
Mom frowns. “Imogen, do you have to be so blunt?”
I shrug. “Would you rather I make an excuse?”
“No, I’d rather you bring a boyfriend. And don’t worry about school, I consulted your school calendar to see when your spring break was, and you have time off for the trip.”
I bristle at the fact she is so meddling, but it’s no surprise. We’ve always been close, but we’ve also always butted heads. “And what if I already have plans?”
“You have a few months to change them. Imogen, really. It’s for your father.”
I lift my eyebrows. “Dad wants to take a trip to Cancun?” I smirk, thinking about how Dad’s idea of a vacation is two weeks in the summer at the lake. “Okay, Mother, I’ll bite. Why do you want me to go so badly? With a boyfriend that doesn’t exist?”
Mom groans, dropping her fork. “It’s Clara. She’s always talking about how amazing it is that her daughter Jenna is married and expecting, and I hate that she thinks she can one up me all the time. She’s so judgy.”
“Why is she your best friend again?” I ask before taking a bite of salad.
“I know you’ve never liked her, but we work together on the hospital event every year. We can’t not be friends. And anyways, I got the four tickets for the cruise from an auction last month, and that’s why I thought you might like to join us.”
I finish my wine, considering this. On one hand, I’d love to spend more time with my father and I’ve never been to Cancun. On the other, I don’t want to do this just so my mom can Facebook about me to make Clara jealous.
Not to mention I am not currently dating.
“I don’t have a boyfriend.”
Mom smiles as big as the Cheshire cat. She drives me crazy but God, I love her. She always has something up her sleeve.
“That’s what I thought you’d say,” she says, sliding a folder across the table.
“What’s this?”
Mom shrugs.
I take the bait and open the folder. The single sheet of paper inside has a header that reads, What The Heart Wants: Matchmaking Services by Grace Graham.
“What’s this, Mom?” I ask, realizing very quickly exactly what it is.
“You always say there are no eligible men in Saint Louis, but I thought you might be wrong … maybe you are just looking in the wrong places.”
I frown. My recent track record isn’t exactly glowing. I meet guys where I hang out. Bars. Clubs. Concerts. Hipster artists who don’t know the first thing about being authentic. Try-hards who wouldn’t know what it meant to be vulnerable if they put on The Notebook and ran a bubble bath.
“He’s handsome, look.” Mom points to the photograph pinned to the paper.
She isn’t wrong about that. He’s seriously handsome — stubble on his jaw line, gray piercing eyes. A smile that has my belly doing flip-flops. It’s been a while since a man made me feel anything but irritation.
“He’s local, thirty years old, and—”
“He’s six years older than me, Mom. He’s probably looking for someone more established.”
Mom shakes her head. “No; Grace, the owner of the agency thinks you’ll be a perfect match.”
“You seriously gave a matchmaker information about me?” I laugh, shocked. “I mean, you always take things pretty far, but this is a whole new level, Mom.”
Mom winces. “I know,” she says, waving her hands in the air. “I just want you to be happy.”
“I am happy. I think you want to make Clara jealous.”
“But Cancun would be so much more fun if you had a plus one.”
I laugh, shaking my head. My mother’s persistence is impressive. “This is sweet of you, to care so much, Mom, but honestly, the timing is bad. I’m crazy busy right now, Mom. The show next week is really important to me.”
“Where is it?”
“Next Thursday at the Beckenridge. And I know Dad is working and you committed to going to Aunt Nancy’s in Memphis — I understand.”
“You know we wish we could come. It was just such short notice.”
“Mom, honestly, it’s no biggie.”
“I know,” she says with a smile. “Why don’t I get you a room for that night? As a little treat for your piece being included in the show. Isn’t there a new boutique hotel next door to the Beckenridge?”
I nod. “Yeah, it looks cute. It’s called the All Saints Inn. But I can stay at my place, it’s literally fifteen minutes away.”
“I know but it … well, just as a little gift. I know how much it means to you.”