Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 97574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
I slide my cell into the pocket of my jeans, but I'm too slow.
Sienna catches me. Taps my shoulders. "You're talking to a guy."
We're at the counter, waiting for our drinks. There's nowhere to hide. No way to pretend I'm suddenly fascinated by my surroundings. "Where would I meet a guy?"
"At Rick's?" She laughs. "I can't believe they actually call it Rick's. Has the owner even seen Casablanca? That place is the opposite of Rick's."
The Rick's Cafe Americano in Casablanca is all life and energy and heat. The Rick's in midtown is all quiet and stillness and cold.
I'm not sure the guy who owns Rick's has ever seen Casablanca. Whereas we've seen it about a thousand times.
It was Mom's favorite movie. She and dad watched it every month, on their anniversary.
They were like teenagers, celebrating their one-month anniversary.
Then he died and she stopped watching. And all the love in the house turned to grief.
"He thinks he's Bogart." I push past my painful memories. Try to hold on to the good ones. Where Casablanca felt like home. Even if it's a home I'll never have again.
"Yeah. Like he's an icon, even though he's a short alcoholic." Sienna shakes her head. Checks the still empty counter for her drink. "Oh my god, this is taking forever!"
My phone buzzes.
Sienna notices. "Are you talking to a girl?"
"No."
"Are you talking to a gender non-binary individual?"
"No."
"So you are talking to a guy?"
"It's not a big deal."
"Mm-hmm." Her eyes flit to my pocket. "Then why don't you reply?"
"I'm talking to you."
"Well, I'm going to get some napkins. So you won't be talking to me for a minute." She moves to the counter with a wink.
I check my cell immediately.
Ty: Done.
Done.
He'll pay my sister's tuition.
And the mortgage.
Done.
Indigo: You don't know how much it is.
Ty: I've already agreed.
Sienna returns with a fistful of napkins. "Who's the guy?"
"No one."
"Uh, yeah, someone." She motions to my lipstick. My long necklace. My low-cut top. "You're dressed up for him."
"I can't dress up for myself?"
"You just happened to dress up for yourself the same day you started texting someone? Please." She drops the napkins on a small table. Adjusts her ponytail. "It's for a guy."
My cell buzzes.
I want to see Ty's text. I want to let my guard down and fall into that perfect summer we spent together.
It's May. Almost three years since we met.
Three years and so much has changed.
Mom got sick. Died. Left me with bills I couldn't pay.
I went from holding up half the world to all of it.
"Indie…" Sienna's voice gets singsong. "Who's the guy?"
My fingers glide over the edges of my cell. I want to see him. To hear his offer. To let him assuage my doubts.
"Oh my god." Her blue eyes light up. "It's him."
"It's who?"
"Mr. London."
How did she guess that?
"It is!" She claps her hands together. "I can't believe it. After three years. I knew it. I knew he'd see the error of his ways. Beg to win you over."
She's not wrong. She's not right either—this is about Ty getting what he wants—but she's not wrong.
Thankfully, the tearista saves me from contemplating the matter. She calls our order. Black tea, hot. Royal milk tea with boba.
Sienna jumps out of her seat and skips to the counter.
I check my cell while she's distracted.
Ty: Meet me for dinner.
"Is it really Mr. London?" Sienna holds my drink to her chest. "I'm going to keep this until you tell me."
"You're going to stain your sweater."
"Don't care." She sets her boba on the table. Holds my take-out cup with both hands.
She looks adorable, holding my tea hostage. Sienna tries to embrace her inner badass sometimes, but it never works.
Don't get me wrong. She's tough. A soccer player with the strong legs and the constant ponytail to prove it.
But she's got the world's sweetest face. Hazel eyes, button nose, chestnut hair.
All of Mom's coloring. And her resting sweetheart face.
Whereas I look more like Dad.
Pale skin, intense blue eyes, dark hair.
And the resting bitch face.
Though no one says that when it's a guy's face. It's more that he looks tough. In control. Serious.
Not that anyone ever complained. Not when he was alive.
And not now.
That's the one upside to death. All compliments.
"In-di-go…" She says it louder. Loud enough the people in line turn our way. Which only makes Sienna laugh. "Tell me. Please." She taps the lid of my cup. "Your tea is getting cold."
"What if it is him?"
"Then I need every detail."
I shoot her a really look.
She nods hell yes. "I know you remember that summer. Because I remember the look you had when you came home." She makes a show of fanning herself.
I seize the moment. Grab my tea. Take a long sip.
Mmm.
Yes, it's mediocre, but it's still warm and strong and full of caffeine.
"It is him," she says. "I knew it."
"I didn't say—"