“Mom, I know,” I started, ready to argue, but she wasn’t having it this time.

Her entire demeanor shifted, her back straightened, and her face grew uncomfortably stern.

“No, you don’t know.” Her tone made me feel like a little kid who had just gotten caught stealing the last cookie from the cookie jar after being warned ten times. “You need to want more from your life, and if you don’t start taking it seriously, I’m going to intervene.”

“Intervene? What the hell are you talking about, lady?”

My mother hated when I called her lady, and I snickered to myself as she clenched her hands together, feeling like I’d won somehow.

“You know that Social Month is almost here, right?”

“Yes,” I answered in a bored tone because it was the same thing every year.

Social Month was thirty obnoxious days filled with industry events, auctions, benefits, and parties. Anyone in the staffing business who wanted to host any type of event did it during this thirty-day period; otherwise, you didn’t do it at all. It was absolute madness and sheer hell, and I fucking hated it, but it never seemed to slow down or end. No matter how many people complained about this period of time, it was those same exact people who booked the yearly events and insisted that you attend every one of them.

When it had been suggested a few years back that we extend Social Month to happen twice a year instead of just once, I’d almost faked a heart attack on the conference room table to emphasize that Martin Management would not be participating at all if that happened.

It stayed scheduled for one hellish month from then on.

“If you don’t bring a date to the events, I’m going to bring one for you. And I do not mean any of those ladies you have on rotation who come to your house at night.”

How the hell does she know about that?

“I have quite a few women in mind that I think you’d actually like. I’m sure I can narrow it down, if need be.”

If I had been drinking anything, it would have come flying out of my mouth with her ludicrous suggestion. “You what? You can’t be serious?”

“Oh, but I am. I want you to find love. I want you to be happy.”

“I am happy!” I shouted like a petulant child, but this was fucking ridiculous, and she had to know that. I wasn’t some guy who needed to be set up on dates by his mommy. This was absolutely insane.

“I want you to be happy in more than just one aspect of your life. I want to travel the world and know that you’re here, giving your heart away and making memories of your own outside of these office walls.” She sounded legitimately sad, like I was disappointing her somehow by not settling down. “I don’t think I can leave otherwise. I can’t go away, knowing you’ll keep spending all of your days and nights here.”