A few hours later, grinning like idiots, we headed outside to Jack’s truck. “You know,” he said as he opened the passenger door. “I’m thinking that maybe we should go back inside. Hole up in your bed all day. Maybe all week.”
I smiled and leaned up to kiss him. “Alas,
“Dinner is canceled,” Jack said later, putting his arm around my waist and nuzzling my neck. We ended up back at Jack’s place, where I let him show me his appreciation. For two hours. Stretching, I turned my head toward him. I felt very appreciated.“Let’s just stay here. All night. All the nights in existence,” he continued, his voice muffled as he bu
“You’re a bad best friend.” I glared at Cat and picked up my phone, making sure to put my hand over the speaker. “Bad, bad best friend.” She barely glanced up from the plate of scrambled eggs she was salting. “Yeah, yeah. Thank me later.”
Cat didn’t go. We went instead. Jack enforced her dinner first, then dessert rule. He made conversation over appetizers, charmed me over wine, and force-fed me lasagna till I couldn’t move.
The day arrived, dark and gloomy, like Mother Nature knew this was my last day of existence. Bitch could have at least given me some sunshine. I stopped by Cat’s apartment before I headed to June Lake. “You know the drill.” Leaning against her doorframe, I leveled a tragic look on her. &ldquo
My “bring it on” bravado did not last long. Over poison-free pot roast, Bonnie regaled us with tales of Wes’s latest victories at the vet clinic. While we slathered butter on our rolls, she went on about her darling son’s contributions to the community. Once the red velvet cake was serv
As I watched Wes disappear into the darkness, the smile still lingering on my face faded. The girl he’d described—the one who didn’t care what people thought—what happened to her? I’d always just assumed I grew up. And got boring along with it. When was the last time I’d don
I walked into work the next morning heavy with relief. Work would distract me, keep me from obsessing about last night’s fight, stop me from returning one of Jack’s calls from last night, from driving back to June Lake.Of course, work would also eat my soul, but sometimes you had to take the good with the bad.
I pulled into a long, tree-lined driveway and turned the car off. Leaning forward, I peered through the windshield. I didn’t know what I’d been expecting. A full on, Beverly Hills-style mansion, complete with marble walkways and a sprawling lawn? An intimidating, angular modern masterpiece with a fountain smack in the middle of the drive?&