Total pages in book: 199
Estimated words: 192134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 961(@200wpm)___ 769(@250wpm)___ 640(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 192134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 961(@200wpm)___ 769(@250wpm)___ 640(@300wpm)
She wrinkles her nose. “That’s what artsy people like you and my parents say, but the only art I get excited about is hanging in my closet.”
I tear off another bite of croissant, pondering as I chew. After I swallow, I ask, “So, why didn’t you ever say anything? About hitching my wagon to an anchor?”
“It didn’t seem like my business,” Gigi says with a shrug as the train swooshes around a curve in the tracks. “It isn’t my job to tell you what I think is best for you. Believe me, I was bossed around by my big brother enough growing up to know how miserable that can be.”
“Your brother is super bossy. Like, the dictionary definition of bossy.”
“One hundred percent.”
Gigi sets her hot chocolate on her tray with a smile and reaches out to squeeze my hand. “And that’s why, in my personal philosophy, my job is to love and support the people I adore while they blaze their own trails and choose their own adventures.”
“That’s a wonderful philosophy.” I turn my hand palm-up and return the squeeze. “And you do an amazing job of that. Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” she says, sobering as she adds, “but I confess that I really want to stick my nose into the whole you-and-Jesse thing. It’s been hard keeping my thoughts to myself.”
I sigh. “There is no Jesse and me. I hope we’ll always be friends, but he’s moving away. Far, far away.”
A well-groomed brow rises. “So? Last time I checked we have Skype. And planes. And cell phones for dirty late-night phone sex.”
I nibble my bottom lip. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been fantasizing about something more with Jesse as part of my Authentic Ruby Revamp plan. “But I don’t know if he would be open to something like that,” I say. “To a relationship. We were only supposed to be friends with benefits for a little while.”
“And you’re supposed to take over Sweetie Pies and run it until the day you die too,” she challenges as the train rattles past tall trees, with colonial homes in the distance. “And you’re not going to do that anymore. You get to decide.”
I tear at my empty croissant wrapper, shredding it into tiny pieces. “Not everything. It takes two to tango.”
“Then tango over to his place and ask him to dance,” she says before lifting her hands in surrender. “But that’s all I’m going to say about it. My lips are zipped from now on. Whatever you decide, I’m here to love and support, regardless.”
“Same,” I promise.
And I mean it, all the way to the marrow of my bones.
I mean it so much that as soon as we make our way back to Brooklyn and emerge from the subway stop in our neighborhood, I hug Gigi goodbye outside the park instead of walking with her the rest of the way to my place.
“Gotta see a mama about a pie shop,” I say.
Gigi pulls back, her eyes wide. “You’re doing it now?”
I take a bracing breath. “No time like the present.”
“You want me to come with you? Just in case you need someone to help you catch Barb when she faints?”
I force a smile. “No, she’s not going to faint. She’s going to see that I’m right. I’ll make her see.”
Or at least . . . I hope I will.
26
JESSE
The Datsun shimmers.
I step back, rag in hand, and circle my favorite car one more time.
Even the hubcaps shine.
They’d better—I’ve spent the bulk of the last forty-eight hours here in my garage prepping this beauty for a road trip across the country.
Maybe I should check the oil one more time.
I do.
It’s all good.
And the tire pressure.
Yup. That’s solid as well.
“Need anything else, you sexy silver beast?”
She’s silent.
And so is my phone.
So is my apartment.
So is my fucking garage, emptied out and waiting for the new owners to take possession next week.
I’ve heard nada from Ruby.
Not a single word since I left two days ago.
All I can do is keep myself busy, which hasn’t been easy, since my garage is already spic-and-span.
I finished packing up some books and plates and clothes in my apartment, though the movers I hired will do the rest next week.
Time is unwinding.
My chest seizes.
Grabbing my phone, I check the messages one more time.
They mock me, glaringly empty.
Nothing from the woman whose voice I’m dying to hear.
I heave a sigh, the weight of my own choices sinking me. My bones are heavy, and it’s my own damn fault.
Which means the thing I need most now is a kick in the pants.
There’s one person who’s excellent at giving those.
It doesn’t take long to catch Max up on what went down. I give him the details as we wander through his wife’s favorite wine shop so he can grab a bottle for a fancy Friday night dinner at home.