Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“To get Mom off your back? Was I right about that?” she asked, since she was still my big sister, and being right mattered.
“Yes. Also . . .” I rubbed the back of my neck.
“Also, you wanted to be with her. And this handed you the opportunity without the vulnerability.”
I frowned. “You don’t have to make me sound like an asshole. We both agreed to the plan.”
“I’m not here to judge you, Hutton.” She sat back. “But I have a feeling something went wrong with your plan.”
“Nothing was wrong with the plan,” I argued. “The plan was perfect. What went wrong was that I tried to make it better, and she got mad.”
She put her chin in her hand. “Go on.”
“We were going to get through the party, then break it off and tell everyone we’d decided we were better off as friends when I went back to San Francisco.”
“But then you realized you’re in love with her and that plan sucks?”
I jumped out of my chair and started pacing. “Look, it doesn’t really matter how I feel. We can’t stay together.”
“Why not?”
“We just can’t, okay? I’m going back to San Francisco and her life is here.”
She cocked her head. “So it’s the distance?”
“Yes,” I lied.
“But you’re a billionaire. Can’t you work from anywhere?”
Honestly, I probably could. But that wasn’t the point. “No, I can’t. I have to live where my company is based.”
“Felicity won’t move?”
“I didn’t ask her.” I avoided Allie’s eyes.
“Why not?”
“Because her family is here, and her business is here, and she won’t want to upend her life that way for me. Why should she? My relationships always end badly, and so do hers. We wanted something different. Something safer.”
“Interesting choice of words,” she mused. “So you thought you were protecting yourself by giving the relationship a deadline? That way neither of you would have to do the hurting or get hurt? You could stay friends?”
“Exactly!” I snapped my fingers, glad she finally understood. “Foolproof.”
“So how did you attempt to improve upon this totally safe and foolproof plan?”
“We have to be out of the house we’re in by August fifteenth,” I explained. “But I suggested that I could rent or buy another place and she could live there when I go back to San Francisco. I was trying to do her a favor.”
My sister’s jaw dropped. “By suggesting she become a kept woman?”
“It wouldn’t be like that. I care about her.”
“But that’s not what you said to her, is it?”
“She knows I care,” I insisted.
“She doesn’t know you love her.”
I shook my head. “I can’t tell her that.”
“Because . . .”
“Because then I’m just like her mother, okay?” I yelled. “I’d have to say it and walk away, and I can’t do that to her.”
My sister rose to her feet. “You’re missing the point—I’m suggesting that maybe you don’t walk away, Hutton. You tell her you love her and you find a way to stay.” She held up a hand to prevent me from arguing. “You accept that you’re not perfect, you accept that you’ll probably always have that shitty voice in your head, but you accept that you’re still deserving and fucking capable of love. Or you let her go. That’s your choice.”
Infuriated, I stood there glaring at her for a full ten seconds, my jaw clenched, my chest tight, my head pounding. “I said no therapist shit.”
“That wasn’t therapy shit. That was big sister shit.” She pointed to the yard. “Now you go out there and think about what you did.”
While Allie ran errands, I hung out with the kids, took them to the park, made them lunch, and bought them ice cream from the truck Zosia and Jonas chased up the street. All afternoon, my sister’s words ran through my head, but I refused to admit she was right.
I knew myself better than she did. What she was telling me to do was impossible.
“Why are you in such a bad mood?” asked Zosia as we walked home. Her ice cream was dripping all down her hand.
“I’m not.” I glanced behind me to make sure Keely was okay in the wagon I was pulling.
“Yes, you are. You’ve been grumpy all day.”
“I just bought you an ice cream cone, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” she allowed. Then she held it up toward me. “Want a lick?”
“No, thanks.”
“When you get married, will Felicity be my aunt?”
It felt like she’d kicked me in the gut. “I guess so.”
“And when you have kids, will they be my cousins?”
I swallowed hard. “They would.”
“Cool. I want some cousins.” Then out of nowhere, she said, “You’ll be a good dad.”
I stared down at her. “What makes you say that?”
“You like the park, you never care about getting sandy or messy or wet, and you buy us ice cream.”
“That’s all it takes to be a good dad?”