The Rest Will Come Read online

  “I feel that might be a little too direct.”

  “You know me. That’s how I roll.” Ronnie thought a moment. “What about something with running?”

  “I do love running, but do you think if I do something fitness related, I’ll only get a bunch of roided out jocks?”

  “Eew, possible. Hmmmm.”

  “Why is this so hard? This should be the easy part.”

  “Maybe we’re overthinking it.”

  “Me? Never!”

  “How about Overthinker69?”

  “Now you’re just being an asshole.”

  “PutABabyInMeNow?”

  “Shut up. You are cut off from the username decision.”

  “YourBabysMomma?”

  “I hate you.”

  “You like to read a lot.”

  “Do I want to sound like a geeky bookworm?”

  “It couldn’t hurt for you to attract someone smarter. Don’t make me itemize the morons on your headboard.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “How about SexyB00kw0rm?”

  “Seriously, you’re done.”

  “The RealSlimShady?”

  “Just fuck you.”

  “EmOnTheRun?”

  “Hey, that’s not bad.”

  “See, I’m not done.”

  “I like that one. Username, check. Now a profile picture. Holy hell, how do I pick a picture?”

  “Find your sluttiest MyBook picture and slap that on there.”

  “I am trying to not attract douchebags, remember?”

  “Right. So we need hot and pretty but also tasteful. Something that says, I don’t put out on the first date but I want to bear your children as soon as I know you’re not an asshole.”

  “More or less, yes.”

  “Soccer mom with cleavage.”

  “Why did I agree to your help?”

  “Because you can’t be trusted left to your own devices.”

  Emma opened a new tab on the laptop. “Okay, here are my MyBook profile pictures. What do we think?”

  “Your current one has you holding Josiah. Don’t use that one, it would be confusing. Like, is this your baby? Do you come with a baby? Why are you dating when your baby was born yesterday?”

  “Right, okay.”

  “Where’s that one when you did the race up in Aspen?”

  Emma clicked through the blur of her own face until the fall leaves filled the screen.

  “Yes, that one,” Ronnie said. “It’s before the run, so you look pretty and not like a hot, sweaty mess. You also don’t look all made up like you’re trying too hard. It indicates you enjoy running but is not a picture of you running. Shows you out in the beautiful Colorado scenery.”

  “We have a winner.”

  “So you have a name and a picture.”

  “Now, into the meat.” Emma leaned forward and took a long chug of her wine, looking at Ronnie out of the side of her eye as she gulped. “The first section is what I’m looking for.”

  “You get a wishlist?”

  “It would appear so. Interested in? Men. Looking for? A relationship. Wants kids? Yes. Income preference? Wow.”

  “Bitches be shallow. Is there a height preference?”

  “Yes.”

  “What are you going to do? Because you definitely have one.”

  “I do.”

  “Are you willing to narrow the pool of already limited guys?”

  “That would make me a shallow bitch, right?”

  “Um, yeah.”

  “Okay, no height preference.”

  “Yay! Look at you growing.”

  “Look at me desperate.”

  “Not desperate, reprioritizing.”

  “Tomato, tomahto.”

  “You can get really specific on what you want, can’t you? You can basically design your perfect guy.”

  “Yep.”

  “Then you just have to hope that he actually exists on the internet. And if he says he exists, you have to hope that he’s not lying to you to trick you. Or is actually a woman. Or a geriatric pervert with wifi.”

  “These words of encouragement are so helpful.”

  “A hoochie before my time.”

  “Now, all about me. Age, height, blah blah blah. Body type. What should I put here?”

  “Let me see the choices. Um, athletic. While you are slender, you are no toothpick with all that running. I think athletic.”

  “You don’t think they’ll expect some cut up, toned girl then?”

  “That’s their problem. You think they are putting an accurate type in there?”

  “Probably not.”

  “On the internet, a keg becomes a six-pack.”

  “I wanted to try this online dating thing, right?”

  “Yes. Just like I wanted to have a baby.”

  “Crap. Now I need a bio.”

  “What is that? A free text field?”

  “Yep. All about me.”

  “Give it to me.”

  “What?”

  “Give me the computer. I’ll write it up.”

  “No thank you. I don’t need you ho-ing me out.”

  “Emma, give me the laptop.”

  Emma squinted and reluctantly passed over the computer. Ronnie turned the screen away from her and curled up, clicking away on the keyboard. Emma sat expectantly beside her, watching her type words she could not read, waiting to see what dreadful concoction was brewing on the page.

  “Baby!” Ronnie hollered at Terrence. “We’re ready for final edits!”

  Terrence emerged from the hallway with Josiah slung across his forearm, still dozing. “You girls come up with some good, man-catching material?”

  “I think so. Let me read you her bio,” Ronnie replied.

  “Which I did not write,” Emma said.

  “Ahem,” Ronnie started. “I am an active and fun-loving Colorado girl. When I am not working, you will see me running in any weather. I also love to spend time with my friends and have a close relationship with my family. I am looking for the right person to share my life and start a family with.”

  “Nice, babe. I think that works. I would reword the close relationship with family part though, could be read the wrong way. Otherwise, really good.”

  “Holy crap,” Emma said, stunned. “Even I liked it.”

  “See?” Ronnie said. “Trust in me. Now we have a bio. Post this profile!”

  Ronnie passed the computer back to Emma. Emma looked over all the information once more then clicked the button and sent her dating dreams out onto the vast internet. She shut the computer and put it on the coffee table.

  “Download the app to your phone,” Ronnie said.

  “You think I’ll get messages that quickly?”

  “I have no idea. Hence the app on your phone to tell you.”

  Emma lifted her phone and navigated to the app, installing it to her device. After she tapped in her new account credentials, she looked surprised at the notifications.

  “I already have messages,” she said.

  “They are hungry,” Ronnie replied. “What do they say?”

  “‘Hey baby. You have such a beautiful body. Message me back.’”

  “Eeew, pass.”

  “Agreed. Okay, I decline this message. Why am I declining this message, it asks. Not interested. Okay. Next message. ‘Hi there. You look like a nice and fun girl. Message me back if you would like to get to know me better.’”

  “That wasn’t as bad. Pull up his profile.”

  “He’s cute. Wait, doesn’t want kids. Decline this message. Why? We’re not a match. Oh, I have to write a message. Um…I am looking for someone who wants a family. Good luck in your search. Okay. Gone. Oh wait, I have ten matches to go through too.”

  “So people message you and the site also gives you matches?”

  “Based on the similarities in our profiles, I guess.”

  “Let’s process these matches then. See how good this site is.”

  Emma a
nd Ronnie curled up beside each other on the couch, drawing their knees up in front of them and balancing the phone between them, the tiny screen illuminating their faces.

  “Hold on,” Emma said, lifting her wine glass. “I need a drink. A big drink.” She took a long gulp. “Oh wait. Here, let me take one for you too.” She took an even longer drink.

  “You are such a bitch.”

  “I’m about to be a drunk bitch. Okay, here we go. First one.”

  “Look, it’s a kid picture.”

  “It says here that he doesn’t have any kids. You’re right, it is confusing. Like, who is this kid? Family? Friend? Random kid off the street? And why is this kid in your dating profile picture?”

  “To kick women who want kids and have a biological clock banging off the wall right in the uterus.”

  “Ah, yes. Clever play.”

  “You want to message him already, don’t you?”

  “No. Moving on. Next.”

  “Oh. My. God. Is that a bathroom selfie lifting his shirt? Of course it is! He doesn’t even have a six-pack!”

  “Let’s read the profile.”

  “Absolutely not! This is literally like the douchebag calling card profile picture. Next!”

  “Fine, fine. Oh wait, now he’s cute.”

  “He is cute. Simple picture taken by someone else, meaning he has friends or a stranger trusted him enough to do him a favor. Outside in the mountains so he’s not a video game troll. Scroll down.”

  “Ah, shit.”

  “What?”

  “He’s undecided on kids.”

  “Skip him.”

  “It says undecided. Maybe he would change his mind.”

  “Like Justin? Yeah, no. Skip.”

  “Fine. Probably should be sure this time. Next!”

  “It’s a meathead.”

  “Be nice. He’s a personal trainer. Divorced, definitely wants kids. Likes to work out, obviously.”

  “His profile lacks grammatical errors.”

  “That’s not exactly high on my priority list.”

  “It should be. So do we like him?”

  “Yeah, I think we can keep him. If I like him it tells me to wink at him. Winking.”

  “What happens after you wink?”

  “I believe he either ignores me, winks back, or messages me directly.”

  “That sounds complicated.”

  “Here’s another outdoorsman.”

  “With another mountain picture. I like it.”

  “He is very into biking. Look at all these cycling pictures. He’s kind of short though.”

  “Five feet seven inches is not short. You are just a picky Amazon. No discounting based on height while I’m sitting with you.”

  “Yes, Master. Winking.”

  Emma raised her glass and drained it, feeling the nerves in her forehead haze. Ronnie watched her enviously from the sides of her eyes. Emma set her empty glass on the table and pulled the phone closer. Ronnie stood up and hobbled into the kitchen, walking slow and wide in an awkward limp.

  “Holy shit,” Emma said.

  “What?” Ronnie hollered.

  “I already have seven new messages, eleven winks, and twelve new matches.”

  “Ugh, this is already exhausting.”

  Chapter 12

  Emma sat in the restaurant booth, perched awkwardly somewhere between excitement and anxiety. She gripped her fork and tapped the metal softly with her index finger then punctured vegetative bites of her salad. Emma was uncomfortable eating on dates, as if her food choices or the way she ingested would suggest something unsavory about her. She was equally unnerved if she abstained and simply observed her date eat. She caught herself critiquing his meal selection or how he chewed, asking if she could live with the sound of his mastication for the rest of her life. She compromised to eat small and light. Perhaps he would assume she was conscious of watching her figure, which was fine. More, it would pacify the nervous quease in her stomach without aggravating it.

  With a mat of leaves rocking between her molars, she looked up at Andrew, or Drew as he insisted she call him. Drew filled the opposing booth with wide shoulders and pectorals that rose up in his athletic polo shirt. His dark skin pulled taut across his skull, with only the minute hints of wrinkles near his eyes. The meal in front of him was divided into a very deliberate macro ratio, heavily slanted toward the lean protein yielded by his grilled, flavorless chicken breast.

  Drew was clearly very conscious of watching his figure.

  Drew looked up from pulling the knife across his chicken and smiled at Emma. Despite his rigid, toned exterior, his face was soft and warm, spreading effortless and wide across his high cheekbones and illuminating his eyes of such a pale brown they blazed orange. Emma experienced a jolt in her center at that grin.

  The spark.

  “How long have you been a personal trainer?” she asked.

  “Since my divorce,” he replied. “After my wife left me, I decided I had to get out of the desk job and do something I could get pumped about, something I loved. I kind of dove into the gym.”

  “At least it’s a healthy outlet and you love it. How long have you been divorced?”

  “She left me about a year ago. We’ve been final for maybe three months now. You’re divorced too, right?”

  Three months??

  “Yes. Four years now.”

  “Wow. And you’re still dating? You are so hot and seem so awesome.”

  “Yeah, I had some bad experiences and took a break.”

  “I’m sorry. I hope this time is a better one.”

  “So far, I have no complaints.”

  Drew flashed that smile again, and Emma’s mind swooped clumsily around her skull. She reflected it, hoping blood was not flushing her cheeks.

  “What do you do, Emma? Your profile didn’t really say.”

  “I have a couple jobs. I work as a barista at Happy Beans. I also work on the phones at Call Solutions. Sometimes I pick up shifts at The Taproom.”

  “Wow. That’s a lot of jobs. Why do you work so much?”

  “My ex accrued a lot of debt for us, and I still live in our house.”

  Emma did not want to talk about Justin or all the ways he had ruined her life. She hated that she could not answer inane backstory questions without invoking him. He haunted her relentlessly though she had not seen his face in years. He was with her on every first date because he was the reason they were necessary.

  “I guess you don’t have a lot of free time for the gym or anything then.”

  “Not really. I do run a lot though.”

  “Really? That’s impressive. I can’t stand running. I haven’t ever been able to force myself to do it. I like lifting.”

  “I hate weights.”

  “Looks like we are the perfect balance then.”

  Emma quietly began to hope so.

  ***

  The next morning, a sly smirk still played on Emma’s lips as she walked into Happy Beans. As always, Gladys was already singing to herself behind the counter.

  “Good morning, darling. You look risen from the dead. Is that actually a smile I see?”

  “Maybe.”

  “What could possibly drag you out of the perpetual dumps and put a grin on that gloomy face?”

  “I had a good date last night.”

  “A what? You’re back on that bandwagon?”

  “Yeah, I decided to try online dating.”

  “Oh honey, I know Ronnie having a baby before you was hard on you, but the internet is full of creeps and perverts and stalkers. You have to be careful.”

  “That’s not what it’s about. Didn’t your daughter meet your son-in-law online?”

  “That is not the point. She got lucky. He’s not that much of a catch anyway. You didn’t let his hand in the cookie jar the first night, did you?”

  “Gladys, of course not. I just met him. Besides, giving up the cookies hasn’t been working out so great, so I’m going to try holding
back. We just had that spark.”

  “Ah, so he’s pretty then?”

  “Very pretty.”

  “Oh, Lord.”

  “I have two more dates on my day off.”

  “With him?”

  “No. New guys.”

  “You have three different dates in one week? And two in one day?”

  “Yep.”

  “How are you going to keep them all straight?”

  “I have no idea.”

  ***

  On her day off, Emma stood in the bright morning sun. She shifted her weight from leg to leg, shielding her eyes with her hand in addition to her sunglasses. The Colorado sky was a crisp blue, allowing the sun to pierce vividly through the thin air. Emma leaned against the chain link fence watching the steady stream of people trickle in from the parking lot with their hands tangled in leashes and excited dogs bouncing around them.

  Finally, one figure appeared to be walking toward her.

  “Emma?” he asked from behind sunglasses.

  “Rick?”

  They smiled at each other and shook hands. Below Rick, an energetic puppy wound Rick’s legs with the leash before attempting to claw up Emma’s leg.

  “Who is this?” Emma asked, squatting down to meet the dog.

  “This is Bruno.”

  Bruno frantically bounced up at Emma, lapping excitedly at her face and twirling in tight circles under her hands. His white coat was speckled with brown spots to match his face and ears.

  “How old is he?”

  “About two. I got him after my divorce. You know, keep a plant alive, then get a pet. Keep a pet alive, then date.”

  Why am I the only one who has been divorced so long?

  “I thought that was rehab.”

  “Are they so different?”

  “Not at all.”

  Rick was older than he appeared in his pictures. He was shorter than Emma, his eyes cresting around her chin, which immediately doused her attraction. He had a lean and compact body. According to his profile, he was an avid cyclist, and he looked the part.

  They broached the dog park fence, and Rick liberated Bruno from his leash.

  “Is it weird to go on a dog park date without a dog?” Emma asked.

  “Technically, you can count Bruno as a part of your date. Would you like to hold the leash so you feel like less of a poser?”

  Emma laughed genuinely. Bruno darted out ahead and circled back to lick Rick’s hand as they meandered in laps around the park.