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"I'm over this shit," Indigo thought to herself as she watched Saxon rip off the pink wrapping paper on the umpteenth gift like the Hulk's kid sister.
By age thirty-five, you're categorized in one of two groups: married or spinster. Of course, it isn't politically correct to flat out call someone a spinster in this day and age—not to their face.
No, there are subtle hints cast here and there—hints that Indigo, months shy of her thirtieth birthday, had picked up on as she nursed a glass of Pinot Noir at her eldest sister's third baby shower.
Indigo just loves the single life, her Aunt Maureen whispered to her cluster of church friends.
Still no ring, Cousin Tracy harped on as she inspected Indigo's left hand after giving her a bear hug.
As the clock ticked well past two, Indigo was on her third glass of wine and contemplated drinking straight from the bottle. Instead of risking a hangover, she snuck out the living room. As she put distance between herself and the pinked-out room—overcrowded with cooing women, she felt the pressure fall from her shoulders. The kitchen was the place she sought refuge.
Harrison Clark, in all his six-foot mocha glory, stood by the island whipping pink food coloring into creamy, pillowy batter.
"I thought you would've left by now." He judged the tint of the pinkness and decided to empty the entire bottle into the bowl.
"Uh." Indigo groaned climbing atop the barstool. "I thought you weren't coming."
"I wasn't," he declared. Being the only boy has its perks but being the only baker in the family has its drawbacks. "But your sister ambushed me at the bakery and had a meltdown." He stopped stirring to give Indigo a faux smile. "So, I'm here. I had to cancel my date because of your sister."
"Our sister," she corrected before taking another swallow from the almost empty glass. "Wait! You had a date?" she asked to get a nod from her little brother. "With the Tinder chick?"
Harrison glared at her. "Her name is Tulip."
Indigo's nose turned up. "Like the flower?"
"And your name is what?" he snickered. "A color."
She flashed him her middle finger, the sunlight pouring through the window hit the diamonds in her lotus ring. "A bold, beautiful color with deep meaning."
Her hand gesture did nothing to erase the smirk from his lips. "It's a hippie name."
"You mean, independent thinkers." Indigo shrugged raising the glass to her mouth. "That created their own paths, not giving a damn about what others have to say."
"Maybe that's why you're not married..." He smeared frosting on the vanilla cupcake. "You're free-spirited at heart."
She didn't see anything wrong with being a free-spirit. She never wanted to follow the crowd or do things just because everyone else was doing it but this wasn't a matter of following the norm. She felt the clock tick and it wasn't in her favor and no one let her forget it.
"You're about to knock the hell out of twenty-nine and I don't see anyone giving you grief about getting married."
"Because I'm putting in an effort." He drizzled pink sprinkles onto the cupcakes. "Going on dates."
"And I'm what?"
"Checked out entirely."
"I'm just busy." She slapped the countertop. "I don't think you people understand how much work goes into being—"
"A boss." Harrison cut her off and she rolled her copper eyes. "We all know that's an excuse. Mom was a corporate lawyer and she still had time to hook Dad."
"Well, Baker Bob...Dad was a partner at the firm mom worked at." She straightened herself on the stool getting serious. "I own a shoe store and I don't see too many straight , unmarried guys buying Louboutins and Jimmy Choo's."
Harrison wiped the sugar off his hands. "For starters, you can stop saying no when you're asked out."
"So you're telling me...that I should say yes to the idea of hanging out with a stranger." She shook her glossy curls.
"Yeah!" Harrison threw up his arms. "Cause that's how strangers become unstrangers."
"Unstrangers?" She burst out laughing. "That's not a word."
He looked at her blankly. "That's not an antonym for stranger?"
"No. Not at all." She stared at him making a mental note to buy him a thesaurus for his birthday.
He shrugged. "Well, fuck I'm not an English teacher. Saxon is."
"How are you the only one with a normal name?" she asked, reaching over the island for a cupcake.
He pushed her hand away. "Dad named me." He licked the icing off the spoon then handed it to her. "All I'm saying is, say yes to a date once in a while."
She twisted her mouth savoring the sugar on her tongue.
"And don't overthink it." Harrison insisted on lifting the tray of identically frosted cupcakes. "Just go with the flow."
"That's easy for you to say, hippie," she said, hopping off the barstool and following him back into the madness wishing she could date as easily as Harrison.
Unlike him, she had scars and side effects that still lingered from bad relationships.
