Page 6 of All For You

“We can’t tempt you?” Penny said. I was sure she was playing on my previous turn of phrase about not being tempted, which made me feel even guiltier.

I shook my head.

Annoyed, Lizzy’s mother ripped off one square and thrust it in front of me. “For goodness’ sake.”

Reluctantly, I took the paper from her. “Youdoneed to let us know the rules.”

“Here are the rules,” Lizzy’s mother said, agitated. “For every square you’ve taken, you share something important about yourself. Who you are, what you do, and, most importantly, what you want from love.”

Thank God I only had one square. Everyone buzzed about what they were going to say, and I felt even more appalled, if that were possible.

“Lizzy, would you start?” Penny asked.

Lizzy looked as though there were nothing she wanted to do less. I sat on a corner chair and sipped my drink, surprising myself with how interested I was to hear what she had to say.

“I have five squares,” she said, holding the first one. “My name is Lizzy. And my dog, Oodles, is resting upstairs after our huge runaround in the forest.”

A big, “Aww,” went up.

She held up the second square. “And I’m a romance author.”

A strangled sound choked from the back of my throat.

“Did your wine go down the wrong way?” Lizzy’s mother asked me with a flash of anger. “Would you like a clap on the back?”

“Were you…scoffingat me?” Lizzy’s cheeks blushed red.

The atmosphere turned tense again—again the arched eyebrows, the curled lips, and wide eyes. Raising everyone’s hackles twice in a night, a record even for me.

“Certainly not,” I said. “I’ve never read such literature. I know nothing of it, and as such, I have no opinion on that genre.”

“He doesn’t know anything about romance novels.” Her mother rolled her eyes, shoving her hands angrily into the backs of her sparkly jeans. “You’re being obluse.”

“Obtuse?” I corrected her.

“That’s what I said.Everyoneknows about romance novels. Girl meets boy or girl. Or boy meets boy. They like each other. One of them stuffs it up—let’s face it, usually the boy, if there are boys involved—boy grovels, and they live happily ever after. Lizzy writes two peppers. That’s out of five.”

What did peppers have to do with it? How could they be part of the rating scale? What genre used garden produce? Wait… Did this have anything to do with aubergines? I suddenly felt prematurely old.

“Mum, he doesn’t care,” Lizzy said.

Her mother cleared her throat. “I say, Lizzy darling—commit to five peppers, and you’d make more money. A inserts into B, give the people what they want. She still insists on the mistier version. But does anyone listen to me?”

Lizzy slapped her hand over her face. “Mum.Please.”

“Muuuum,” Jane said, clearly mortified as well. “Lizzy is a wonderful writer. She’s a best seller.”

The women in the group nodded and murmured their appreciation.

“I love your books, Lizzy.”

“You’re my fave.”

“So funny and so much emotion.”

“You’re my fave too,” Trystan chorused while he poured more champagne. “You give us all the tropes, microtropes, with a good slathering of universal butter.”

The women all laughed appreciatively.