Page 5 of The Mr. Right Checklist

“Your coffee is probably lukewarm by now.” She nods to the coffee she bought me.

“Sorry. I was grading papers and lost track of time.” I sit down and motion to a pink-and-gold flyer on the table. “What’s that?”

“It’s for a company that does marriage-proposal planning. I thought I’d give it to Scott, since he’s planning on taking the plunge.” Like Talia, Scott is an English lit professor.

I pick up the flyer and quickly scan it.

Get the Yes!

Your personal romance concierge.

Let our love expert create a magical and unforgettable proposal just for you and your forever love.

We’ll make your big moment stress-free and beautiful.

We do the prep. You get the yes!

“Are you kidding? Now guys need other people to do their bidding?” I scoff and push the flyer across the table.

“I think it’s a great idea. It has to be stressful figuring out just the right proposal.”

“No, it’s not. Look at how Derek proposed to you. He didn’t put on a show, and you were walking on air for weeks.” I always thought Talia would fall in love with a great guy one day, but Derek took us all by surprise. He’d been a long-haired bartender and a dancer at a club back then. How he’d convinced Talia, who didn’t like bars and blushed at the thought of watching a guy dance onstage, to go out with him was a wonder in and of itself. But here they are, two years later, happily married with a little boy named Evan.

She grins and glances at her rings. “It was the perfect proposal. How did you propose to your ex?”

I grit my teeth, not wanting to think about Elaina, the proposal, or the way our marriage ended. “I don’t remember.”

“Which means you don’t want to talk about it.” She holds up her coffee cup. “Here’s to leaving the past in the past.”

I toast with her and sip my tepid coffee. “How’s your day been?”

“Not bad. The end of the semester is always exciting and trying. Nobody really wants to be here, including me. But I do have new pictures of Evan to show you.” She shows me several pictures of her adorable dark-haired toddler.

“He gets cuter every week.”

“He really does.” She sets her phone down. “He’s into everything these days, but you’ll see for yourself this weekend, when you come to our dinner party.”

“I believe I already turned down that invitation.” Ever since falling head over heels for Derek and having Evan, Talia has been trying to set me up with women, which is infuriating, since she knows better.

“Yes, but you didn’t really mean it. It’s not like you have anything better to do.”

“Do I have some kind of sign on my forehead that says ‘Don’t believe me when I speak’? This is the second time in two days this has happened. That know-it-all dog groomer said the same thing to me about putting bows on Molly, and I was perfectly clear when I asked her not to. You know me. I’m always clear, and she has the nerve to argue with me about something every damn time I pick up Molly. As if she knows me at all. It’s fucking irritating, and she talks with a Southern drawl. I thought Southern women were supposed to be sweet and passive.”

“That’s a gross generalization, but she sure gets a rise out of you. Maybe I should invite her to the get-together.”

I give her a deadpan look. “She wears socks with paw prints on them.”

“You noticed her socks? Interesting.”

Yes, I noticed her damn socks. I also noticed the dimple in her left cheek when she smiles and the way her mouth looks too wide for her face. I’ve never tried to notice those things any more than I’ve tried to notice the way she looks at Molly with genuine affection—and at me with contempt. Or at least dislike. I have noticed way more than I want to, and her feisty attitude has been invading my thoughts for far too long.

“You’re getting as bad as my family.” I eye Talia as I take a drink. “I liked you a lot more before you fell in love.”

“Because I was as cynical as you are?”

“Exactly.”

Chapter Three