Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 105175 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105175 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
“It’s says you’re probably just having a garden-variety psychotic break,” she reassures me.
“I think I’m going to go to his house,” I exclaim, turning for my closet.
I’m a ball of anxiety and emotions. It’s the morning after the gala, and I need to act—NOW. I’ve thought about nothing but James all night, of how I could possibly convince him I’m sorry and deserve a second chance. I want to throw on sneakers and run to his house. I want to press play on a boombox beneath his bedroom window and light a million candles and ride up in a limo, dangling out of it precariously with a red rose stuck between my teeth. I need a grand gesture, and I need it yesterday!
“Slow down, mental case! What are you talking about?”
Oh, now she closes Instagram.
“James,” I say, flinging shoes out of my closet in my quest to find a pair of running shoes that still fit me. I haven’t lived at my dad’s house in a while, and the selection in my closet is pretty slim. Stuffed in the back, I find a pair of hiking boots and decide they’ll do. “I have to get him back.”
“Since when?”
“Since always!” I shout, annoyed with her for not keeping up. “I was just too stupid to see it before.”
“Oh,” she grimaces. “That’s pretty inconvenient considering he hates your guts.”
“Yeah, no thanks to you,” I throw back heatedly. “Really good job, by the way. I think he assumes I slept with half of the European Union.”
“No, just half of Spain,” she clarifies with an utter lack of concern for her misdeeds.
I want to throw one of my chunky hiking boots at her head, but I’m scared it’ll cause permanent damage. Besides, I need them. I plop down in the center of my room and start working on lacing them up. Ellie is trying to get my attention, but I can’t get distracted now. I have too much pent-up energy exploding inside of me. I’m jittery, and I don’t know what to do. I was perfectly fine yesterday before the gala, but seeing James and twirling around in his arms like some kind of fairy princess was like pouring lighter fluid on a slow-burning fire. I knew I still had feelings for him, but not like this. This is terrible! It hurts! See: heart attack. Speaking of…
I glance up when I’m midway through lacing up the first boot. “Are you sure I shouldn’t go to the hospital? I think I’m having pain in my left arm.”
Ellie leans down and catches my shoulders in her palms. Then she levels her gaze with mine and inhales deeply.
“Do it with me,” she says.
I breathe.
It only makes things worse. I don’t have time to breathe! I’m supposed to go back to Spain in six days! How am I supposed to convince James I love him in six days?!
It’s obvious.
“Oh my god, Ellie. I can’t go back to Spain!” I exclaim.
She smiles. “Duh.”
I reach for my phone. “This is an actual emergency!”
“Don’t tell me you’re calling an ambulance,” Ellie says, rolling her eyes.
I settle for the second best option: the cookie delivery place down the street.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Ellie locks me in my room and makes me promise I won’t go see James on a whim. She thinks I need to be armed with a thoughtful speech, a sexy outfit, and at least half a Xanax before I attempt whatever it is I think I’ll be attempting. I think she’s being ridiculous, so I spend upwards of two hours trying to knot my bed sheets together to make an escape ladder. It doesn’t work. I grow weary, lie down on my floor, and crash hard for a solid 12 hours. Huh. Turns out, I was pretty exhausted. Something about travel, galas, and massive life decisions really conks you out.
The first thing I do when I wake up is FaceTime Diego and Nicolás. I’ve had time to consider my options, and now that I’m well rested, I still agree with the decision I came to in the midst of my mania. If I want James to take me seriously when I ask for a second chance, I have to tell him I’m moving back to the States.
FaceTime connects right away and Diego leans forward, scrunching his nose and studying me.
“What’s that on your face?” he asks in lieu of a greeting.
“Oh, nothing, just indentations from sleeping face down on the carpet. Anyway, I have news…about what Diego and I talked about the other night.”
Diego claps gleefully and turns to Nicolás. “I told you so!”
“I should have never taken that bet!” Nicolás replies with an eye roll.
“Well you did, and I won, so pay up.”
Nicolás turns back to the phone. “Wait, Brooke, are you staying for the guy?”
I nod.
“Sí! SEE!” Diego shouts triumphantly.
After Diego is done gloating, I try to turn the conversation back to a more professional topic: my resignation.