It's easy to imagine my ideal man.
God knows I've spent enough hours alone thinking about what it would be like to be in love—to be loved.
My family may think I'm sour. All sorts of prissy, a prude. Frigid is a word I've heard a few times. But I'm none of those things.
I just don't let my guard down around my family because they are rough around the edges. And I know that if I'm soft, they’ll eat me alive.
I've got to be ready to fight.
If I were to meet the right man for me, he would be my protector. The kind of man who would let me drop my guard. Let me relax. Assure me that my true colors are just fine.
Of course that man does not exist in Home, Washington.
My brothers are determined to scare any man away from me, telling themselves that no guy is good enough. Not just me—my sister Fig gets the same thing from our overprotective brothers.
Andthatthought has me all dried up. Any chance of an orgasm has left the building.
Groaning, I turn off the vibrator and finish showering.
Thoughts of my brothers ruin any mood real fast. Especially since I know Mac and Graham, my two younger brothers, saw my vibrator in my bathroom when they were here helping fix a leaky pipe last month. I was mortified beyond belief at their discovery, and they’ve been making comments ever since that I need a husbandreally bad.
I finish washing my hair and body before stepping out of the shower, annoyed that I didn't stay focused on my alpha hero and instead let my mind wander back to reality.
It’s probably for the best. I need to get up the mountain to my parents’ house.
All that talk of being late is false bravado. I care what my whole family thinks, and I don't want to let any of them down.
I've made it my life’s mission to be the good daughter, the one who's always there, taking care of everyone, stepping in. For the most part, I love that role.
But sometimes, as I'm getting a little bit older, I wonder if that choice has meant a sacrifice I didn't realize at the time. A choice that cost me love.
* * *
I don’t expectany big birthday celebration tonight because Mom and Fig are headed to Seattle tomorrow to catch a plane to California for Fig’s spring break trip.
My little sister is a senior in high school this year. And this trip is something she's been planning for a few months with my mom.
When I walk inside my parents’ house, I can't help but grin. Someone has put up streamers and a banner that saysHappy Birthday Lemon.
In the kitchen, I see Mom has made my favorite birthday treat: a lemon tart, with fresh raspberries and whipped cream.
I smile, taking in the bouquet of tulips, my favorite flowers. My birthday is not for another two days, but since we won't be together on my actual birthday, I appreciate everyone putting this effort together for me now.
“You look surprised, Lemon,” Mom says as she wipes her hands on a kitchen towel, walking over to me.
I shrug off my jean jacket. “I knew you were busy with leaving town tomorrow,” I say, giving her a hug. “But thank you.”
“Had to make your lemon tart.” She points to her signature pastry on the kitchen island.“I probably made and ate a hundred of those when I was pregnant with you.” She smiles at the memory, her eyes meeting my dad’s as he walks into the kitchen with a few bottles of white wine. Mom named us kids after her pregnancy cravings, and we all joke we’re lucky she wasn’t craving something like hot sauce or donuts. We might be Tabasco or Maple-Glazed.
My whole family's always here for Sunday dinner, and tonight is no exception. We take glasses of wine into the living room, catching up on one another’s weeks.
Rye and his new wife Prairie have just gotten back from their honeymoon. They went to Iceland, which seems insane. I didn't think my brother was ever gonna leave the state, let alone the country. And nowIceland? But he and Prairie look so happy, with a glow about them, probably from the natural hot springs they explored on their trip. They can't keep their hands off each other, which makes me want to roll my eyes and barf, and also, well, I couldn't be happier for them.
Bartlett, the next oldest sibling, is married as well, for two months now, to Abby, the tightrope walker, who is also the most lovely, outgoing, and optimistic person in the world.
Graham was born after me, then Reuben, Mac, and Fig, who are all here too. And there is a pile of presents on the coffee table, which is one perk of having a large family.
My niece Plum, Reuben’s daughter—she's five—is twirling around in a leotard, showing off.