What I really want to do is chuck my brand new iPhone out the tenth-story window and jump out after it. A perfectly logical thing to do in a crisis of this magnitude.

“Finally,” she replies, not bothering to mask her excitement. “Why didn’t you mention her sooner? I’m so happy to hear things are going well enough with a partner for you to bring her! You’re such a good man, Henry. It’s time you get serious about your personal life.”

It’s half praise, half scolding, and I’m slightly offended by her implication that I might be alone forever, as true as it might be.

“I’m happy, too.” My throat is constricting, closing up and making it difficult to breathe. I yank on my collar, trying to relieve some of the suffocating tension. “Mom, I have to run. I have a meeting this afternoon, and there’s some work I need to finish up.”

I’m a terrible liar, and the longer I talk to her, the more obvious it’s going to be that I’m the worst son in the history of humanity. I can’t have her calling my bluff before I figure out the shitstorm I threw myself into without thinking about the consequences.

“Okay, sweetie. Love you. Call us later this week. I’ll send you the email with all the information. What’s her name?”

“Will do. Love you, too.” I deliberately ignore her parting question and hang up the phone, groaning loudly to my empty office. The four walls offer me no sympathy.

Of course I don’t have a date for my parents’ 40th anniversary party I’ve known about for months. That would be too easy. Too simple. Too logical.

I’ve never introduced a woman to my family. Up until this very moment, I never planned to. I’m content on dying alone; an old, wrinkly bachelor with an extreme disdain for relationships. My parents retired a few years ago—my father from the Massachusetts Supreme Court and my mother as a state representative—and it seems like all of Mom’s attention has now been diverted to finding me a life partner. Gone are the days of filibusters and budget presentations, replaced with bi-weekly calls hounding me about my love life.

My purposely non-existent love life, mind you. A girlfriend and committed partnership are the last things I want.

With their questions about attending the party alone and repeated attempts to set me up with the daughter of a family friend, I panicked and said something stupid. So incredibly fucking stupid.

A curt knock interrupts my woeful, self-deprecating thoughts. Noah, one of my best friends, pushes my office door open and stares at me.