Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
She’s running on empty.
I can see it in her eyes.
Annabelle huffs out a laugh. “I wouldn’t know how to relax.”
“That’s exactly why you need to go.” I lean forward, resting my chin on my hand. “Seriously. When was the last time you did something for yourself? Not for the town. Not for your brides. Something for you.”
Annabelle’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Her shoulders sag. “I don’t remember.”
“Babes, I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I just want you to consider being selfish for a second.” I pause. “Maybe I’ll book a trip for both of us.”
Her eyes widen. “Seriously?”
“Dead serious. You, me, cocktails with little umbrellas. We can sit on a beach, complain about men. Eat, drink, have a fling.”
Annabelle’s smile softens. “Amazing.”
I grin. “We’ll wear floppy hats that say Vacation Mode. I’ll read a romance novel and pretend to be shocked by the smut. It’ll be great.”
We sit in comfortable silence for a moment, the noise of the café buzzing softly around us. I watch her relax and know the cogs in her mind have begun spinning.
Perfect. She needs a break.
I can help her plan one.
“So what do you have going on today?” She changes the subject on me. “Doesn’t Harris leave tomorrow?”
I nod. “He does.” Swallow. “He’s got a team meeting tomorrow about defense strategy or something?” I have no idea what anything is called. A football fan I am not . . .
“And that’s it? The two of you are done? Lucy—you can’t tell me that whatever is going on between you and Harris is . . . I don’t know, a onetime thing. You’ve been glowing since you met him. And I mean actual glowing. It’s so irritating.”
My heart does this weird little flip. “It was fun,” I admit. “He’s hot, great in bed. Funny—”
Annabelle makes a gagging noise.
I ignore it. “And he’s leaving tomorrow. He was always going to leave.”
She watches me for a long moment. Taps her fingernails on her coffee mug. “So that’s it? No deep feelings, no regrets? Just a fun adventure?”
I want to nod.
Instead, I pick up my coffee and take a slow sip, stalling for an answer.
Annabelle smirks. “You’re hesitating.”
I set my cup down with more force than necessary. “I’m not hesitating. I’m . . .” I straighten my spine. “Know what? Maybe you should be focusing on your own love life instead of mine.”
Her smirk drops instantly. “Low blow.”
I lift a shoulder. “You said you haven’t gotten laid in weeks. Maybe that should be the priority—and not the fact that Harris is leaving.”
She regards me. “Can you be honest with me for a second? Be real . . . Do you have feelings for Harris?”
The question lands like a weight on my chest: period, point blank.
I open my mouth to give her a casual brush-off, to make a joke about how feelings are for people with time for drama—and neither of us have time for that. But my words catch in my throat.
I can’t say them, because they are a lie.
Instead, my gaze lands on the table, and I pick at the edge of my napkin, doing my best to ignore the sting behind my eyes.
“Yes,” I whisper, barely audible. I clear my throat and say it louder. “Yes. I do.” I exhale. “I care about him a lot.”
Annabelle listens, expression one of tenderness.
“It’s crazy, right?” Madness. “I barely know him, but I hate that he’s leaving. I hate that I knew from the start it was temporary and still let myself fall for him! How stupid am I? Like—I set myself up for this heartbreak.”
An idiot.
Stupid.
Selfish.
Annabelle reaches across the table; her fingers wrap around mine. “You’re not stupid, Lucy. You’re human. And that’s why love is hard—our hearts are fickle creatures. They want what they want despite what our heads tell us.”
I let out a shaky breath, the tears finally spilling over. “I thought I could handle keeping things casual! I did. I thought I could keep things light. Easy breezy. But uh, Harris is so kind. He listens. He makes me feel . . . sexy. And like I matter.” I wipe at my cheeks, raw and exposed, lowering my voice. “I didn’t realize how lonely I’ve been until he showed up. And now he’s leaving, and I don’t know how to go back to dating the same kind of boring men I dated before.”
There.
I said it.
My bestie reaches across the table, fumbling for my hand so she can squeeze it, her own eyes glassy. “You don’t have to go back. Maybe this is the part where you move forward.”
I laugh bitterly. “Move forward into what? He’s leaving tomorrow. He has a life. A career. One I’m not part of.”
She tilts her head. “Have you told him how you feel?”
I shake my head quickly. “Obviously not! What would be the point? It’s not going to change the situation.”