Free Another Shot At Love by Niecey Roy Page B

so I made a visible effort to do some serious chewing. Mom kept her eyes on me as I ate. “Catherine told me you’re dating again. A Richard. How’s that going?”
    Apparently, Catherine hadn’t heard from way up in her fancy office just how horrible my day had been. I stuffed another forkful of potatoes in my mouth, this time mixing it up with scrambled eggs. Mom’s homemade salsa was the only thing missing.
    I forked another bite into my mouth, all the while staring at Catherine and her need for spreading news that wasn’t true. She’d always been notorious for bossing me around and forcing her ideas on me. Even if I told her how not interested I was in something, and even if I had a good reason why, Catherine didn’t care. Maybe it was a big-sister-knows-best kind of thing, but in this instance, Catherine had definitely been wrong.
    I took a drink from Lexie’s bottled water to wash my food down. Then in a loud voice, I told Mom, “I don’t know what Cat’s talking about. She’s been a little whacko lately.”
    Operation Denial had officially begun.
    Catherine crossed her arms over her chest, resting them on her swollen belly. She still had two months before her delivery date, and she looked like she might pop any day. Her whole pregnancy had been like this, always seeming two months further than what she really was. Apparently, Tony made big babies. When Catherine told us Tony had been thirteen pounds at birth, Mom had crossed herself and mentioned cesarean about five times.
    “What?” Catherine asked. “You were just on a date with him last night.”
    I shrugged and answered in a non-committal tone, “ Mmm… I don’t think so.”
    Lexie picked up on my avoidance mode—call it a freaky twin super power—and said, “You’re lying. You told me you couldn’t meet me for dinner because you were meeting Richard.”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I insisted. “Richard is just a guy. A guy who Cat set me up with. And who, by the way, made me pay for his dinner. That is not a date.”
    I threw out that little nugget because I knew Lexie’s stance on the whole going-Dutch thing.
    “Catherine!” Lexie admonished, and Catherine threw up her hands.
    “And he picks his nose,” I added before Catherine could defend herself. I actually didn’t know if he picked his nose or not, but he wore a helmet in his parents’ basement. The nose-picking didn’t seem too far off. And as long as I’d already gone there, I might as well keep on going. “He picks his nose and wipes it on stuff. In public.”
    Mom screwed up her nose up in distaste. “Catherine, you set your sister up with a nose picker?”
    “I did not! Richard doesn’t pick his nose.” Catherine glared at me.
    “That’s just it,” I pointed out, ready for the grand finale. “I don’t know if he picks his nose and wipes it on people’s curtains, or anything, for that matter. But neither do you .” At least I had Lexie’s attention now with all the emphasis I was throwing around. I tilted my head at Catherine and narrowed my eyes at her. “ Do you know Richard personally, Cat? Or did you see him walking down the hall at work and decide, ‘hey, he’d be perfect for Gen,’ because a stranger is better than nobody at all?”
    Catherine fidgeted and switched her weight from one foot to the other. “I don’t know him personally, but I know of him. He’s a nice kid. His aunt says so all the time.”
    “Everyone thinks their nephews are perfect,” I said.
    “True,” Lexie said.
    “And it really doesn’t matter.” I said. “He’s not in the picture.”
    “She still needs a date,” Lexie told Catherine, cutting me out of the conversation.
    “I’m not interested.” I attacked the French toast with my fork. “I’m going alone.”
    I’d spent the afternoon working up the courage to stand up to them—bridezilla and hormonal pregnant sister. Usually, I just gave in because arguing with them was a waste of time;