Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 89898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“Better,” she says. “But you left out all the Holt stuff.”
I shift in my chair. “I actually haven’t seen him since about three this morning. I’m guessing he’s been at work.”
“So this happiness is residual. This is a good sign, Blaire.”
Is it?
Of course being happy is a good thing. It’s much better than the alternative. But is being happy in this situation truly a good thing?
I don’t know.
“I don’t know about it being a good sign,” I say. “But it feels nice not to feel like the world is sitting on my shoulders for once.”
“That’s how I feel with Walker.”
I snort. “He could barely write checks to pay his bills before you came along.”
“Well, I do it for him now, so he still can’t do that,” she admits with a laugh. “But being around him makes me feel safe. I can mess up—you do remember how I met him, right?”
I laugh as I remember Lance explaining how Sienna damaged Walker’s truck. “I do.”
“So, yeah, you get it. You know what I mean.”
I think about my time with Holt, and I do kind of get what she means. If I feel anything around Holt, it’s … that. Confident enough to be myself. To speak my mind. To share my wounds.
To be me.
Still, I don’t know if it’s a good thing.
“When are you coming home?” she asks.
“I just got off the phone with Yancy. She said my building should be opened by the end of the week.”
“What’s the plan?”
I wiggle my toes.
“Blaire?”
“I … don’t know. I mean, I’ll go back to Chicago. He’ll be here running his empire.”
The words hang in the air. It’s not a new concept. It’s been the plan from the beginning. It’s life. Even so, it feels different today. It feels … sad.
How did I get myself into this mess?
Because it’s a mess. Or it will be if I don’t get a hold on things now.
“Maybe a long-distance relationship will work,” Sienna offers. “Have you thought about that?”
“No. And I think you’re thinking too seriously about this.”
“Tell me this—do you want to do a long-distance relationship with him? Would you if he wanted to?”
I bite my lip.
I don’t want to answer her. I want to avoid this topic and move on to something less intrusive. But last night’s events roll back through my mind. Holt’s words about Sienna do too.
She’s a good friend to have.
As nervous as I am to admit—I want to have a friendship with Sienna. I’m not sure what that looks like, really, but it’s been fun talking to her without any pressure. It makes me feel more connected to my family too.
It would be fun to have a girlfriend to talk to about things like men too. Maybe we could grab lunch sometimes. We could even make Christmas cookies like my mom used to do with her friends.
Right?
If I want to have that type of rapport with her, I’m going to have to share things about my life.
Things like this.
I take a deep breath. It feels like my chest has been cracked open, and I’m just waiting on someone to check out my insides and decide if it’s worthy or not. All of a sudden, I’m transplanted back into elementary school and wondering if the girls will like me.
It’s ridiculous. I know that. But I can’t help it.
“Would you?” she asks again.
Would I?
Despite the impracticality of making a long-distance relationship work with Holt, I know I would try. I’d at least commit to giving it a trial period to see what would happen.
The idea makes me squirm.
“If he wanted to have that sort of a relationship with me, I would,” I say slowly.
My cheeks heat as I look up at the sun and wonder if I just jinxed myself. Even if I didn’t, I’ll probably recall this moment later in a rush of humiliation when it becomes apparent that he wants nothing of the sort or doesn’t want to work it out.
“I would try,” I say hurriedly, building in an out for later. “I don’t know if it would work. It doesn’t seem feasible.”
“You never know until you try.”
“True,” I admit. “Which is why I said I’d give it a shot. But this whole conversation is pointless to begin with because we aren’t in a relationship now. We’re just …”
My voice drifts off as I fail to come up with the proper term.
What are we doing?
Saying that we are having a multi-night stand doesn’t seem accurate anymore. I don’t recall having that kind of pillow talk we shared last night with other men I slept with.
But I don’t know what to call it.
“It’s okay not to know,” Sienna says. “Sometimes things get super messy before they get cleaned up. I mean, Walker practically hated me at first.”
I laugh. “I don’t think he hated you.”
“Eh, I think he did.” She laughs too. “And then we had the whole thing that had to get taken care of—which we don’t need to talk about.”