Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16810 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 84(@200wpm)___ 67(@250wpm)___ 56(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16810 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 84(@200wpm)___ 67(@250wpm)___ 56(@300wpm)
“Neither of us even got it last time. Really rude of that waitress to run in and catch it at Melissa’s wedding. Maybe that was our one chance.”
“We can’t rely on old superstitions.”
“That waitress is getting married next week, Olivia.”
“I don’t care. We’ll make our own luck.”
“What are you going to do about it, then?”
“Try. Try really, really fucking hard. I say we make a pact, Piper.”
She raises an eyebrow. “A pact? Should I go get a knife? Like the time we tried to become blood sisters?”
I shake my head. “We were nine and copying the boys. I think we can just rely on one another’s word now.”
“Fine, fine. No knife. What’s your pact, Olivia? What are you being so serious about?”
“Today is Chloe’s first birthday. By her second birthday, the two of us should be married and, if possible, expecting our first children.”
Her eyebrow raises more. “You really are motivated all of a sudden.”
“This is the determination I think we’re going to need, Piper. We’ve become complacent. We have our careers. We’re doing well. We’ve been just waiting for Mr. Right to show up in our lives. But we have to go looking for him. He’s not just going to fall out of the sky for us. We have to try. And try hard.”
She closes her eyes, deep in thought. “And if either of us fails to live up to this pact of yours? What happens?”
I shrug. “We deal with the crushing loneliness and feeling like an outsider that comes with being surrounded by so many happy families. The sting of wondering what’s wrong with you, why you’re the only one who is apparently unlovable and alone.”
“Ow. That’s pretty deep. And depressing.”
“So, don’t let that happen. I don’t want you to be lonely anymore either, Piper. I want you to find the love you deserve right alongside me.”
“What if I want to be a fifty-year-old spinster with ten cats and no kids?”
“You don’t want that, Piper. You’re in the same boat as me, so let’s find our life raft before we sink into the ocean of depression.”
“So poetic. Okay, fine.” She puts out her hand.
I put mine on top of hers. “Then it’s a pact. We swear that by this time next year, we’ll be married and expecting. That we will both be wed and bred.”
“It seems daunting, but to heck with it. I’m going for it.”
“What are you two on about?” Tabitha, with the birthday girl in her arms, comes up to us. “I was looking from across the room and you’re being all dramatic.”
“Nothing in particular,” I smile. “Just talking about how lucky you are, Tabby. And how much we wish we were you.”
“That’s a first. Never thought someone would be envying me.”
“The man, the kids, that's the life. Who wouldn’t want that?”
I hoped I wasn’t biting off more than I could chew with this pact, that I wasn’t about to make some terrible mistake by rushing to settle.
But I’ve played it too safe for too long.
It’s time to take some risks.
2
CAMERON
I crack open a beer and lean back in my recliner. Splayed out on my sofa next to me is my little brother Jonas, his beer resting on his belly.
Both of our eyes are glowing, reflecting off the TV screen currently airing the big game. The Seahawks are disappointing us again. At this point I’m going to change my allegiance to the Chargers, just so I can have a team that wins a game for a change.
It’s quiet between us, the sound of the commentators going over the plays the only thing entering my ears. It’s quiet, and it’s boring.
What am I doing with my life?
The can’s empty. I crumple it up and pitch it toward the bin. It bounces off the side.
“Damn. Something the matter?”
“Why would you ask?”
“You never miss your shots, Cam. Plus you’ve been stone silent since I showed up. We ate pizza and wings in silence. I haven’t gotten a murmur out of you outside affirmative grunts and nods.”
“Isn’t that how we usually communicate?”
“You usually ask me how my week’s been and we shoot the shit, if only for a little bit.”
I grumble, wishing I had more beer to use as an excuse to avoid talking.
“What’s eating you, man?”
“Boredom. I’m so fucking bored, Jonas.”
“Man, the Seahawks aren’t doing that bad.”
“It has nothing to do with the Seahawks, but their piss-poor performance isn’t helping things.”
“How can you be bored, man? You’re living the life. You head out to Seattle every week and go to the pricey clubs. You come home with a new woman every week. You pull six, maybe seven digits each year. I’d kill to be in your spot. Plus, you own your own company and can work from anywhere in the world.”
Jonas does construction work. He’s not hurting for money, but it does have a toll on his body. The guy is a walking ache sometimes. I run an online business, so while my eyes get tired from the computer screen, it is a very different life than Jonas leads.