Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 85565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
James: It’s over between us.
Oscar: Oh. Well shit. I think you may have broken even my record for how quickly a relationship can turn south. What happened?
James: I don’t know.
Oscar: Yes you do.
James: I don’t! If I did I’d be fixing it instead of talking to you!
Oscar: Do you want to talk about it?
I started to type the word no, but reconsidered.
James: Have you ever been in love?
Oscar: Only every time I look in the mirror.
James: I’m serious.
Oscar: So am I
James: I need your help with this Oscar.
Oscar: Fine. Yes, I’ve been in love. Once.
James: Really? Just once? Even with all the men you’ve dated?
Oscar: Way to rub it in jackass. I’ve thought I’ve been in love dozens of times, but only once did it feel real.
James: What happened?
Oscar: Wasn’t meant to be.
James: That sounds like an excuse.
Oscar: Remember when I said that love is never easy unless both sides want the same thing? Well, he and I didn’t want the same thing at the same time so it didn’t work.
James: I’m sorry.
Oscar: Yeah, well, we were young and foolish and blah blah blah. I’m still holding out hope. Maybe love is like fine wine, it just gets better with age.
James: Or it turns to vinegar.
Oscar: You’re such a romantic.
James: Cut me some slack, my heart is broken.
Oscar: Do you love this guy?
The answer came so easily and automatically that even I was surprised. But the moment I typed the words, I knew they were true.
James: I think I do.
Oscar: Well, there’s your answer.
James: That isn’t any kind of answer at all! I have no idea if he loves me back.
Oscar: There’s one way to find out…
James: I think the fact that he left me should answer that question pretty definitively.
Oscar: No it doesn’t. It might not have anything to do with how he feels about you. You won’t know until you ask him.
James: He blocked me.
Oscar: So? There was a day and age when people didn’t walk around with portable phones glued to their hands and they still managed to communicate their feelings to each other. When have you ever given up on anything that easily?
I thought about the realizations I’d come to earlier, about how recently it felt like I’d just been letting life happen to me instead of being an active participant. I was following a path I’d chosen long ago without ever stepping back and wondering if it was still what I really wanted.
James: What if it really is that he just doesn’t love me?
Oscar: Then I’ll find one of my many exes to set you up with. I’m sure there’s a man lurking in my past who could take your mind off things for a while.
James: I don’t want anyone else. I want Sawyer.
Oscar: Then go get him.
I started to type up a reply, but before I could hit Send, he texted again.
Oscar: No excuses James.
James: It’s not that easy. I don’t want to force him into a life he doesn’t want.
Oscar: You’re a smart man, I have confidence you can figure it out. Now go. I’m not responding to you again until you send me a picture of you and your man in a passionate embrace. And BTW, when you ask me to be the best man at your wedding, you should know that I’m in high demand and you’ll want to book me early. Also, I look best in puce.
James: Thank you.
Oscar: This is me not responding and me definitely not telling you good luck.
I smiled. For the first time since Sawyer had left, I felt a spark of hope. I loved him. I wanted a life with him, even if that meant changing everything.
I just had to figure out how to make that happen.
I met Richard at our local coffee shop first thing the next morning.
“I didn’t know the world existed this early in the morning,” Richard said, blinking wearily as I shoved his standard coffee order across the table toward him.
He looked at the cup dubiously. “Nonfat, skinny mocha?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, with five pumps caramel, whipped cream, and extra chocolate shavings.” The man embarrassed me every time I had to walk into a coffee shop with him. Sometimes I think he liked to show up late just so I’d be forced to order for him and face the judgment of the barista on my own.
He took a delicate sip, let the drink sit on his tongue for a moment before nodding his satisfaction and leaning back in his chair. “So, what, couldn’t wait until a decent hour?”
“I need your help with something.”
He looked surprised. “Me?”
“It’s about the Cape Cod deal.” I fiddled with the sleeve of my coffee cup before letting out a deep breath. “I need you to cancel it.”
I’d caught him mid-sip and he sputtered, nearly choking on his coffee. “You’re kidding, right?” he finally wheezed. “My father would murder me.”