Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 83211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Finally, she heaves a breath. “I think it’s because it was a dickish thing to say, first of all.”
“Agreed.”
“But also …” She frowns. “I guess it makes me really mad, because Joshua doesn’t know anything about me, but he was able to needle me. He struck a real fear, and I don’t know if he did it on purpose or if he got lucky.”
She looks so alone. Is she really withdrawing from me? Is it intentional? Or is it habit?
I lay my palm next to hers and bump her pinkie finger with mine. She holds it out to the side, and I lace mine over it. That’s better.
“What are you afraid of?” I know I’m pushing my luck, but it’s now or never.
She takes a long, deep breath. “I’m afraid that maybe he’s right.”
“What do you mean?”
She smiles sadly at me. “I don’t really know how to talk about this.”
“You just open your mouth and let the words flow. I do it all the time. Sometimes it works out for you and sometimes not.” I wink. “I wouldn’t recommend ordering a dozen chickens without thinking it through, though.”
Her laughter is light and small, but it’s there. And that’s good enough.
She blows out her breath. “For someone who talks a lot of shit, I’m pretty uncertain about a lot of things—most things, really.”
“Like what?”
“Like … I can’t believe I’m talking about this,” she mumbles.
I stroke her pinkie finger with mine. She stares at them as if the sight of them gives her strength.
“I don’t know how to connect with people,” she says softly. “I don’t know if I connected with my mother or not and it drives me nuts every day. I have no memories of her, no stories to tell at parties when people share their favorite mom tales.”
Oh, Sara. I want to hold her and kiss her, but if I do, she’ll stop talking. And as much as I want to heal her wounds, I want her to have the chance to unload them. Give them to me. I’ll carry them for you.
“My dad was great,” she says. “But he was military, and there wasn’t a ton of hugging or words of affection. And that’s fine. It comes with the territory. But then he married Sabrina, and suddenly, he had the ability to do both.”
She frowns and looks so … sad. She looks down at our fingers again, and I just wait, because I feel there’s more.
“With Sabrina, and then with Bethany, he was warm, and you would even have thought he was cuddly. But he never did that with me.”
And there it is. Shit.
I wrap my arm over her shoulders and pull her closer to me. She lays a hand on my chest and doesn’t even try to pull away.
My parents are huggers. My family, except Foxx, are warm and tactile—sometimes too much. But Sara has never had the level of affection I have taken for granted.
My chest stings for her. I wish I knew how to fix it. I would.
“I love my friends,” she says. “And Ashley’s mother, Gretchen. I don’t know what would’ve happened to me without her. At least she tried to rope me in.” She chuckles. “She’d come to a party at two in the morning in her nightgown and find me if I hadn’t checked in or come to her house.”
Thank God for Gretchen.
She swallows against me. “I guess I’m scared that I’ll never have a family or a connection with someone else because I’ve never had it. But I’m too scared to try to have it too because what if I fail? What if it proves that my fears are right, and I don’t know how to …” She looks up at me. “Be wife material, I guess. And what if everyone else already knows?”
I press a kiss on the top of her head. “Well, for what it’s worth, you’re doing an excellent job as my fake soon-to-be wife.”
Her entire body relaxes. She rests her cheek against me once again.
I don’t know what to say. I’m so bad at this. When things get murky, I distract myself by walking across the street and seeing what everyone else is doing. But Sara doesn’t have that option.
So it’s just been her all this time? How fucking lonely.
“Why don’t you talk to anyone about this?” I ask. “Have you talked to Ashley or Becca?”
She shakes her head. “No. I know they love me—they’re the best. But it’s just hard to imagine that anyone really cares.”
“They care. I promise you they do.” I squeeze her shoulder. “And I care too.”
She laughs as if she’s dismissing me.
“And my mom will care,” I say, groaning. “Don’t ever tell her any of this if you don’t want her in the middle of your life trying to fix it all. This is a huge warning.”