Mister Romance by Amelia Simone (the reading list .txt) 📕

of game, dropped the subject. The conversation switched to Jimmy’s work, love life, and family. He was working as many hours as he could get, trying to advance his career, and I respected that. I also worried. Firefighting introduced a world of danger that was outside my experience. My imagination conjured images of him trapped in a burning building, struggling against the flames. The worst that could happen to me while writing was eye strain.

Jimmy dropped me off at home after our dinner, and I checked my email as soon as I was by myself. Reliving social failures with Jimmy reminded me that I didn’t want to be alone. But I knew my limits. Keeping to email was safe. It was late, but I hoped that Tamra had responded to my questions.

Nothing. She was probably busy. Living her life. Not waiting for my email. Disappointment flashed through me. The lack of response was expected, but that didn’t erase my drive to keep moving forward. I could do approach my research differently, but Tamra had piqued my curiosity. I wanted to learn more about her life.

Without a current project in the works, I decided to call it a night. Unfortunately, I tossed and turned until the early hours wondering if I should buck up and introduce myself to Tamra. Different scenarios of our meeting played out, each new idea introducing yet another creative way for me to make an ass of myself. I was in no hurry to live out those fantasies. Tomorrow, I’d check my email and hope that Tamra’s response would be enough.

Chapter 8 - Tamra

Eva could probably hear my squee through our shared wall when I got Virginia’s email. She had sent several thoughtful questions, and I wanted to take my time with my answers, so I didn’t respond right away.

I wasn’t delaying to draw out my relationship with her. Not stalling. Nope, not me. I was just excited to work with a real, live author and help with research. It made me feel like one of the cool kids, when I usually felt like part of the background. Reading had long been an escape. Now my hobby and social media were providing me an opportunity to connect with others on my favorite topics.

I was rarely the star of the show. Not at work. Not in my family. With three other siblings, I often got lost in the shuffle growing up. I tried to find my thing, my talent, but nothing worked out. I wasn’t a cheerleader like my oldest sister, Jennifer. My own short gymnastics career ended early after a broken foot. I struggled to squeak out any intelligible notes on the flute in band. Unlike my sister, Vanessa, I wasn’t first chair material. Getting hot and sweaty on the basketball court held no appeal. Nick was the all-star athlete in the family. Nothing stuck. Nothing fit. Quitting became my thing. My family began to doubt that I’d ever cobble together a degree or a career. Luckily, after three major changes in college, I found nursing.

There was some truth to the idea that parents lowered their standards with each child. By the time they got to me, my folks were just glad I was breathing. They didn’t have high expectations for me or themselves as parents.

It was hard to get a word in among my outspoken family, and eventually, I quit speaking up. The silent sister. The quiet one. Being invisible had its advantages. Even if it was lonely.

It wasn’t that I didn’t like to spend time with my family. My older sisters were both married, and they’d blessed me with multiple adorable nieces and nephews. My youngest brother had announced his engagement months ago, leaving me as the only single person in my family. I was dreading his wedding in a few weeks. The pitying looks and awkward questions about my single status from relatives would make it hard to fade into the background.

If I brought a date they might leave me alone, but I hated the idea of subjecting someone I barely knew to my family. My sister Vanessa was okay, but Jennifer lived for power trips and snark. Even if Nick and Mindy had a small wedding as they claimed to be planning, family alone would push the guest list well over fifty people. Fifty plus nosy, but well-meaning relatives who would be difficult to dodge. As tempting as it sounded, even I wouldn’t bring a book to my own brother’s wedding.

At work, I made the mistake of mentioning Nick’s wedding to Gina.

“Oooh, Tamra. What are you going to wear? Do you have a fabulous dress?” she asked with interest.

I laughed and looked down at my blue scrubs. “Pretty sure I don’t own a fabulous dress, but I have enough scrubs to last through the apocalypse.”

She shook her head and wrinkled her nose. “Tamra, as your life coach, I do not approve. We need to bibbidi-bobbidi-boo you up. I may not be able to provide a prince, but a night off and a great dress should be doable.”

Was she my life coach or my fairy godmother? I could argue that I didn’t need either, but we both knew it would be a Big. Fat. Lie.

“What about going shopping together? I’d love to go with you. Or you could try one of those dress rental places if you don’t want to buy something,” she continued.

That was a thing? Now I knew I wasn’t cool. “Dress rental? Like a consignment shop?” I asked.

“No, like a true rental. There’s a runway rental service online that will ship you a dress for a weekend. Then you send it back when you’re done.”

I shook my head. I needed clothes, not couture. My goal was to blend.

“What a time to be alive. I’ll see if my sister has something, but we’re not quite the same size anymore, and she’s going to be at the wedding too. I’ll check out that service, and if I don’t see anything I like, maybe we