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talk
now
.”
    Kellan rolled his eyes out of frustration and moved past me to sit on the couch, leaning back with his arms crossed in front of his chest. “Fine, talk.”
    I had this sudden urge to punch him in the face, right where his cocky smirk usually sat. He was looking at me as if I was bothering him, like I was a nuisance. “Kellan, what are we doing?”
    “I thought we were talking.” He let out another frustrated sigh.
    I balled my fists, fighting the frustrated tears beginning to well up inside of me.
    “What’s wrong? Are you getting your period?” he asked. “I mean, you seem like you’re in a bad mood or something.”
    Sometimes, humans reach a certain point of endurance at which they snap. At that moment in the evening, I snapped. “Of
course
I’m in a bad mood, Kellan! I’m in a bad mood because I’m sick of this!” My hands moved wildly in the air while I yelled, accentuating my words. “What the hell are we doing? Do you have any feelings for me at all? Do you even want to be with me? I can’t do this anymore. I can’t waste my time on someone that doesn’t want to be with me, or can’t even be bothered to
consider
a future with me.” I felt tears fall from my eyes and I wiped them away harshly, angry with myself for revealing any weakness.
    He put his head down in his hands and roughly rubbed his face, his muscles visibly tensing. After a minute of uncomfortable silence he looked up at me, and I could see the answer written on his face.
    After that night, I have not spoken to or seen Kellan. I did hear, however, that he met someone shortly after we’d ended things, and that they’re now engaged. I guess he finally found someone he could commit to.
    It has been a year since then and I’m ready to commit; I’m at a point where I’d like to settle down, get married, and have kids. When did it become so hard to make that happen? My parents found each other as teenagers; why can’t it be that easy for me?
    I feel stuck and lost. I have no idea how I’m supposed to meet my Mr. Right. Am I meant to be one of those women who focus only on their career, forever without a man to stand beside them? Will I finally meet someone in my thirties or forties, only to discover that it’s too late for me to have kids? Will I be alone forever?

Chapter 3
    The next day, I get off the Long Island Railroad, dressed casually in a pair of baggy jeans, looking forward to visiting my sister at her house in Plainview. Tony, my brother-in-law, is waiting for me at the train station. He is a decent guy, and he kisses my sister’s ass, so my family loves him. At five foot nine, with tanned skin, bulging muscles, and tattoos covering his arms and back, Tony looks like a typical tough guy. However, he quickly has me in a hug and begins babbling. In typical Italian fashion, he talks with his hands, even more than I do. Tony’s family owns several successful Italian restaurants on Long Island, and he can afford for Gabriella to stay home and be a housewife.
    “So how’s the
Sex and the City
life?” he asks with a grin.
    “Not nearly as exciting as you’d think.”
    As he unlocks the car, Tony asks, “So when am I going to get a brother-in-law to hang out with?”
    There it is: the same question I hear from Tony every time I see him. I playfully say, “Tony, you don’t want me to meet anyone because then they would be my parents’ favorite.”
    We laugh for a few minutes and talk about baseball for the rest of the car ride to the house. I am a huge Yankees fan, while Tony is a Mets fan; a bickering banter about our teams and players is natural. I was a daddy’s girl so I’d first become a baseball fan to get closer to my father, who loved the Yankees. We watched every game together and I’d quickly grown to love the sport myself.
    My parents own a successful Italian restaurant, where they make and serve their own wine, tomato sauce, mozzarella, pasta, and desserts. When my sister and I were younger, we