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)
Maeve sets her head on my shoulder, sighing sympathetically. “I’d have been surprised if you weren’t falling in like with him. You liked him that first night. Now you’ve gotten to know a man who’s been nothing but generous since the first time you met him,” she says, her voice stripped of its usual sass and teasing. She’s straightforward, and I love it. “Maybe it was all supposed to happen.”
I take a moment to consider her view of fate. Since I landed in town, Wes and I have been in each other’s orbits. We can’t stop circling each other. “Maybe there’s an inevitability to us,” I admit.
“Sometimes two people are just meant to be in the same…place,” Maeve says, her artist soul shining through.
I noodle on that for a beat, drawing in a breath of cool November air. I’ve read enough stories to bet on that little thing called fate to bring people together who need each other. “That might be true in some ways,” I acknowledge. “Wes and I seem to understand each other in the way that we both want and need. But on the other hand, we’re not going to be in the same place for very long. And the fact that we literally live in the same place right now is a problem.” I look from Maeve to Fable and back, shrugging helplessly. “What if something happens and then…I don’t want it, or he doesn’t want it? We’re stuck together, and that would be weird.” Uncomfortable too. My back aches in a reminder of The Kid, waiting to torture me on Maeve’s couch if I need a new place to stay. “I really like living there.”
We’re all quiet for a beat. Humming. Sighing. Thinking.
“You really don’t think a romance or relationship can go anywhere?” Fable asks, clearly needing to make sure we’ve turned over every stone.
“It’s hard to imagine it will. There’s a lot in the way. It’s so hard finding a job and a place, and even if those aligned…” I don’t finish the thought because I don’t have more to say. Wes and I are complicated. Besides, I want to focus on my friends. “But thanks for listening. I needed it.”
Maeve shoots Fable a look. Fable shoots one right back at her, like an unspoken language. With a nod, Maeve squeezes my thigh, then says, “You should take pics with him. For the list. This is a fun girls’ night out. That’s all.”
My heart swells with love for them, for this gesture, for their understanding. “I love you two. So much,” I say, then I wrap an arm around Fable, another around Maeve, and hug them close. “This should be on every list. Tell your friends you love them.”
Maeve’s eyes glisten, and she swipes at her cheek. Fable rolls her lips together, holding in obvious emotions. But not for long. “Love you,” Maeve says softly, and Fable echoes her with, “Love you too.”
I check the clock on our hunt. One hour down. One to go.
Fifty-nine minutes later, we finish with a photo of a group hug with a random dog, a human pyramid of the three of us, and a photobomb in the ferry terminal before we head to a cake shop for our reward.
I’ll miss them, too, if I can’t find a way to stay. I’ll miss them so much.
27
A THOUSAND DIRTY WORDS
Josie
I shouldn’t do this. I really shouldn’t. And yet that night, when I’m home in Wesley’s place, wandering through the living room, my footsteps echoing as I enter the kitchen, I stop and snap a picture.
Of the kitchen counter. We agreed not to “do that” again. But a photo’s not breaking a rule. That’s what I tell myself as I hit send on a text.
Josie: Does this count for number five? Take pictures of fun times?
It’s late in New York, a little past midnight, so I don’t expect to hear from him. But as I leave the bathroom after applying my lotions and potions, a reply blinks up at me.
Wesley: Well, there were definitely fun times there.
A smile takes me hostage, along with my reason and good sense. As I walk to the bedroom in the dimly lit home, I dictate another text.
Josie: I went to The Resort with my friends for a girls’ night out. I thought about the last time I was there.
Wesley: Yeah? What about it?
They say text has no tone, but his sounds intrigued.
Josie: I thought about when you said “What are you into?” Nobody has ever asked me that before. No one.
Wesley: Their loss. My gain. Since you knew exactly what you wanted. I can still hear you saying it.
A delicious chill slides down my spine as I wander into my room, shedding my sweatshirt, a little intoxicated already by this exchange.
Josie: What did I say?
I haven’t forgotten what I said. I doubt he has either. I just want to hear him say it. Or write it.