The Modern Gentleman by Meghan Quinn EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Author: Meghan Quinn
- Genre: Contemporary Romance Fiction, Romantic Comedy
- Publish Date: 14 May 2020
- Size: 2 MB
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Avail for Download
- Price: Free
“Dude, you’re drinking a Mang-o-Rita.”
I stare at the can in my hand and shamelessly nod. Yup, I am.
I’m also wearing cut-off sweatpants and a neon orange Hawaiian shirt I wore
once for a destination wedding in Hawaii. It’s a far cry from my usual
impeccably tailored suit and tie.
Caden, my best friend, continues, “It’s not even a Lime-a-Rita. It’s
mango, chick-flavored piss-water, man.”
Don’t I fucking know it.
It’s without a doubt, a chick drink, and yet, it’s the only thing I have left
“And what’s with the lady scarf?”
Ehh, okay, so I have her scarf too. I found it in my hall closet and sniffed
it for about an hour and a half last night while I tipped a carton of cold lo
mein noodles into my mouth for dinner. Sniff, tip, sniff, tip. It was a process I
repeated until I was out of noodles. And then I proceeded to pick the missed
noodles off the floor and eat those as well. Can you see where this is going?
I’m a hot mess.
“And why is the scarf wrapped around your head?”
Because that’s how she would wear it . . .
“My head was cold.” I stick my chin up in the air. Yes, good answer.
“And the Joni Mitchell playing in the background? Clouds and illusions?
What kind of crap is that?”
Depressing, that’s what it is. It’s depressing crap. But I can’t help but
sniff the tail end of the scarf wrapped around my head, hold my lady can to
my chest, and sway . . . fucking sway.
“I really don’t know love at all . . .” I sing softly with my head tilted to
the sky, memories of the woman I love floating through my mind.
A pillow whips me in the face, dislodging my headscarf and making me
spill my lady drink all over my offensively colored Hawaiian shirt.
“What the hell?” I hold the dripping can away from me and sit up on my
couch, just as Caden sits next to me.
“Dude, you need to get your shit together.” Caden looks around my
apartment. “When was the last time you cleaned in here? It smells like rotten
goat cheese with a touch”—he sniffs the air—“of Doritos.” Maybe because I
was crushing Doritos in my palm last night, letting the tortilla shards indent
my palm, anything to take away some of the pain in my heart. They didn’t do
the trick. “I leave town for a few days and this is what I come back to? An
unshaved, stanky version of The Modern Gentleman. What the hell
Everything. Everything that was not supposed to happen happened. And I
should have known it would pan out like this. Anyone reading my column
could have easily guessed the outcome of my future, the outcome of my
“experiment.” Most of them probably tuned in every week and laughed at my
words, saying, “Oh this is going to backfire, this is going to backfire sooo
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