Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 68309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
“You like him,” Grant says, confidence infused in his tone.
“What are you talking about?”
“The other day when I asked what you were up to, you told me all about your day … but you neglected to mention you spent it with my best friend,” he says. “But he didn’t. He told me he spent the day with you. He told me every single detail. And you know why? Because he’s keeping tabs on you for me, just like I asked.”
I try to respond, but my brain is stuck trying to wrap itself around this information.
All this time, my interactions with Cainan have felt natural, genuine, and unforced. But they’ve also been … convenient. He’s always there. He’s always available. And when we spend time together, minutes turn into hours.
“He wouldn’t do that,” I finally say, though who am I trying to convince?
He knows Cainan better than anyone.
“Really? He’s my best friend, Brie. You seriously think he’d be into you?” Grant chuffs. And with that, everything that has kept me walking on a cloud these past few weeks sends me into a free fall back to earth. “Sorry to break your heart, babe. Unfortunately I know exactly what that feels like.”
With that, he leaves.
By the time he disappears from view, my phone vibrates in my pocket with a text.
CAINAN: CONGRATS!
I shove my phone away, grab a coffee, and make my way back up to my sister’s suite, praying Grant’s gone by the time I get there.
And he is, thank goodness.
But the blue flowers remain.
Along with freshly-planted seeds of doubt.
36
Cainan
“Expecting an important call?” Claire asks Thursday night at dinner.
“No.” I glance beyond the salt and pepper grinders that separate us. “Why?”
“You keep checking your phone. Like every thirty seconds. Seriously.” She reaches across the table in a feeble attempt to swipe it from me. “It’s like you’re not even here. Why’d you invite me out to dinner if you’re just going make me sit here and watch you wait for some phone call that’s obviously not coming. Unless it’s the Secretary of State or Angelina Jolie, I’m going to have to ask you to holster your weapon, sir.”
She’s right—the call isn’t coming.
It’s Friday, and as far as I know, Brie’s been back since Wednesday. Monday morning, she sent me a picture of her baby nephew. I responded almost immediately.
And then … nothing.
I’m trying not to read into it, trying not to assume she had a change of heart and found herself back in the arms of the man she claimed she couldn’t love if she tried. But I can’t ignore the images of the two of them. Images that flood my vision every time I close my eyes at night, every time I check my phone for a new text.
I wouldn’t be so paranoid if it weren’t for the fact that Grant’s been quiet this week as well.
Not normal.
None of this is fucking normal.
Then again, neither is obsessing like a lunatic over a woman you know damn well you can’t have.
“Cainan …” Claire groans. “Put. It. Away.”
I slide my phone into my pocket, draw in a long breath, and browse the drink menu. But the options before me are all just a bunch of letters jumbled together. None of them make sense.
Nothing makes sense.
“Hey. Stop bouncing your knee. You’re shaking the table.” Claire flags down our server. “Can we get a couple of shots STAT? Vodka or something? I don’t care. Just bring us whatever. We’re not picky.”
The waitress comes back in record time, two shot glasses filled to the brim with clear liquor.
Claire shoves them both toward me.
“I’m not drinking both of them,” I say, shoving one back.
“Like hell you are. I can’t. I’m pregnant.”
I choke on my spit. “What?!”
“Surprise!” She grins wide, her fingers splayed into perfect jazz-hands.
“Then why’d you order a shot?”
“I’m sorry … I think you said congratulations, Claire?”
“Jesus.” Realizing the errors of my way, I shove myself up from the table and wrap my little sister in a tight hug despite the fact that we’ve never been huggers. “Congrats, Claire. I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks …” she says as I let her go. “We actually just found out this morning. I’m not that far along. Six weeks or so. Total surprise.”
I take my seat.
She looks like a terrified woman wearing the cheap mask of exuberance, but I keep that to myself, opting instead to inform her she’s glowing already.
“Seriously though, why’d you order a second shot?” I ask.
“Because you looked like you needed it. Bottoms up …”
She isn’t wrong.
I shoot the first. I shoot the second. Within minutes, my skin crawls with heat and the room tilts.
“So what’s going on?” she asks, elbows on the table as she settles in closer. “What’s with all this nervous energy? I’m getting a vibe from you …”
I roll my eyes. “You sound like Luke. Where is he anyway?”