Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102719 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102719 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
I smile, hard, at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.
I fucking love the new hair. The color’s not exactly right—I’ll have to get my stylist to help me out when I’m back in Charlotte—but it’s still better than the blonde.
I feel more like myself than I have in forever.
I pick out my outfit next. I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun getting dressed. Probably because I’m not picking out my clothes based on what Patrick likes, but what I like. I put on my favorite bikini. It’s not my skimpiest, but it’s the one I feel best in. It’s a shade of watermelon pink that’s bright and looks great with my brown hair. The bottoms are high waisted, and the top has these sexy, barely-there straps that are surprisingly comfortable. I won’t spend the whole day tugging at them, which is always a plus.
I try on several different cover-up options, but end up going with a block-print sarong that I tie around my waist. Then I top it off with some gold jewelry and cute gladiator sandals.
Packing my raffia tote bag, excitement blooms in my core at the thought of not wearing a damn thing I pack for tonight’s possible (who am I kidding, probable) sleepover with Riley. I still throw in some shorts, a shirt, and a bra, plus the book I’m reading.
I also grab the bag of cheesy bachelorette things I ordered for today. Because Goldie is Goldie, I went heavy on the penis theme. I bought penis-shaped straws, sunglasses, and a pink sash that says “Same Dick Forever.”
She’s going to love it.
“Hey, gorgeous. Should we expect you for dinner?” Lady asks when I emerge from my room to grab Julia’s keys.
“You should not.”
Mom’s coffee cup goes still mid-air. “Louise.”
“Yes?”
“Should I be worried about you?”
“You should not,” I repeat.
“All right. Just text me to let me know you’re okay. You do look beautiful, by the way,” she replies. “If you like the hair, then I like it too.”
I lean in to kiss her on the cheek. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
“Have fun!” Aunt Lady wags her eyebrows at me.
On the ride to Goldie’s rental house, I turn Julia’s stereo all the way up. I sing along to No Doubt at the top of my lungs and let my hair go wild in the breeze.
I have no idea what happens next. Maybe Riley’s for real. Maybe he’s playing games. But the memory of last night—and yesterday afternoon, and morning, and the day before that—keeps filling my chest with light.
Makes me realize how dark things have been for me lately.
It’s a risk, allowing myself to feel hopeful right now. But I do it anyway.
You make time for the important shit.
And it feels important to enjoy this feeling while I can. No one knows better than I do how quickly things can change. For the worse, yes.
But also for the better.
“Holy shit.” Goldie stares at me for a beat before grabbing my arm and yanking me inside the fabulous beach house she’s renting. “Holy shit, Louise, who are you? What happened? And how did you go from puking at the sight of Riley to having sex with him?”
“How’d you know I had sex with him?”
“The hair! And your face! And that bikini!”
Coop enters the room, a half-eaten bagel in his hand, and nods. “Yeah, you and DR definitely did the dirty. Good for y’all.”
“We should load up the golf carts—”
“Hell no. You’re telling me everything while Coop loads the carts.”
Goldie literally screams when I tell her Riley dumped me not because he was into someone else, but because he was so into me he felt I deserved the world—which he couldn’t give me back then.
“You lucky bitch.” She shakes her head. “It’s funny, but I’ve always wondered why Riley’s never had a steady Betty. Coop hasn’t really seen him date anyone seriously in all the years he’s known him. And—wow—it’s because he’s been waiting for you.”
She screams again when I tell her about the sex.
The excellent, toe-curling sex we had again. And again.
Which means I have to tell her about the sex I wasn’t having with Patrick.
“First orgasms I’ve had with a guy in over a year.” I feel like I’m going to cry again, so I put a hand on my face for what feels like the ten thousandth time today. “I honestly don’t know how to process it. So I’m just . . . yeah, doing what feels right and hoping for the best.”
She puts a hand on my leg. Lowers her voice. “Why didn’t you tell me you and Patrick weren’t having sex?”
“Because.” I shrug. “Felt like I was betraying him, airing our dirty laundry in public. I didn’t want to embarrass him—”
“So you isolated yourself instead.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Just shows how disconnected we were, even though everything looked perfect on the outside. I mean, God,” I scoff. “I even tricked myself into thinking we were fine, even though we clearly weren’t. I thought it was just a phase, you know? Patrick was trying to make partner and he was working like crazy. I was trying to keep my head above the water.”