Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
I don’t show it to my evil friends as we walk to a coffee shop. I reply quietly with: Is that a trick question?
Then I tuck the device away, only to be met by the Cheshire cat grin on Maeve. “That smile means he’s texted.”
I groan. “I can’t have any secrets with you.”
Giving in, I show them the text. Since I’m a glutton for punishment I tell them what happened this morning when I confessed to Wesley why I’d seen Frieda. “I couldn’t very well tell him I wanted to track him down to see if he was up for hanging out again. He made it perfectly clear it was a one-night stand.”
“And so did you,” Fable points out as we reach Doctor Insomnia’s.
She’s right. But just because I actually wanted more doesn’t mean we can have it. “Look. It’s fine. It’s for the best if we try to be nice to each other. To get along.”
Maeve grabs the door and yanks it open. “Yes, Josie. You should text him back because it’s nice. Not because you still want to ride his dick.”
“You’re not making this easier,” I say.
“I know, and I have no regrets,” she says.
“Speaking of no regrets, let’s talk about the list,” I say, as my stomach dips thinking about item number two. Maybe I’ve been avoiding it. No, there is no maybe about it. I’ve definitely been avoiding the second item Aunt Greta left for me. Because it’s about overcoming a fear.
Once we grab our lattes and seats, we shift gears to the list of the Top Ten Things I Never Regretted. “Question,” I begin, with a hopeful smile. “Do you think it’s possible I could get a pass on number two?”
Maeve stares me down sternly. “Josie.”
Fable clucks her tongue. “Pretty sure that’s a violation of the rules of Bucket Lists from Relatives.”
I groan. “It’s just…so not me.”
Maeve pats my hand. “I know. But you didn’t think number one was either. And Greta knew you well.”
She’s too right. I set my face on the table and groan some more, like a wounded beast. “Why do bucket lists have rules?”
It’s asked of the universe.
Of course they don’t have rules. I know that. But when the person who loved you most gives you one, you probably shouldn’t skip a turn.
“And I thought the first one was hard,” I mutter.
Maeve smirks.
Fable’s eyes twinkle. “Well, wasn’t it?”
I roll my eyes. “Very, very hard.”
I sigh, lift my face, then brainstorm a plan for number two.
That afternoon, I take off to see Christian, Liv, the twins, and my mom, who’s here in town now, helping out.
My brother and his wife are in another room in their palace of a house, napping. Mom spends the whole time parked on the living room couch, holding the babies and talking about the babies—what they eat, what they weigh, what they’ll need, and how they’ve slept. I get it. They’re her first grandkids. I’m not really bothered that she hasn’t asked about my job—which is the reason I’m here in San Francisco.
She shifts gears, asking if I want something to eat. “We ordered pad thai with chicken for lunch. There are plenty of leftovers,” she says, then catches herself. “Except…you’re still vegetarian?”
Like it’s the same as my pony phase. My Sweet Valley High phase. “I still am,” I say.
“They have some carrots,” she offers.
I shake my head. “I’m good, Mom.”
A few minutes later, she finally says, “How is the library?” It’s asked with clear interest, so I tell her the full truth.
“I love it already,” I say. “I just do.”
“Tell me everything,” she says, and I give her the highlights, including Raccoon, which delights her.
“I’m so happy, Jay. And you know Greta would be happy too.”
She would. She truly would. Sometimes I feel like Greta’s all mine, but my mom lost a sister too, far too early. Then, since she knows it exists even though she hasn’t seen the list, I draw a quiet breath and say, “I started it. The list Greta gave me.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh. You did?”
“Yes, I finally did,” I say.
“That’s wonderful.” She pauses, swallows, perhaps collecting her emotions too, then says, “Does it make you feel closer to her?”
Well, the one-night stand made me feel closer to my roomie. But I don’t tell her that. I just nod. “It does.”
“Good. I’m glad.”
“Me too.”
Later, when I say goodbye and head out with my map on my phone and a plan to check out the Painted Ladies, I think back to some of my fondest memories with my aunt. Days spent wandering the library she took me to in her town. Afternoons getting lost in the stacks. Early evenings back at her little cottage, eating tomato soup and grilled cheese and playing Monopoly while my parents took my brother to one hockey thing or another.