Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
“No, it isn’t,” said Pinky. She snatched my phone. “What’s her number? Let’s call her. I vote you tell her now.”
“I second.”
“Thirdsy.”
“The matter is not up for a vote, you guys.” I grabbed my phone back. “We are not calling her.”
“Give us one good reason why not.”
“Because she asked me not to.”
Plum narrowed her eyes. “What did you do?”
“Nothing! It’s just that even if I did love her—”
“You do,” said Scribble. “We’ve already established that.”
“And she loves you too.” Alaska pointed at the photo open on my phone, a selfie I’d snapped of us at the wedding. I was grinning at the camera but she was looking up at me, her expression one of pure adoration that even now made my chest tighten. “You can tell just by that picture.”
“Okay, but not every love story has a happy ending.” I felt triumphant delivering the final zinger.
Every single one of them looked at me like I was nuts.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Eddie.
“In the movies,” I mansplained, “not every love story has a happy ending.”
Collective eye roll beneath shark hoods.
“Movies aren’t real, Dash,” said Alaska, flicking my shoulder. “They’re written by people like my mother.”
“And produced by people like my aunt.”
“You’re an actor. You should know that.”
“We’re not talking about a fake love story in a movie,” insisted Scribble. “We’re talking about a real love story. Yours.”
“You get to write it. Start to finish.”
“And produce it.”
“You can even star in it!”
“Give her one that’s better than any movie, Dash,” said Pinky. “Make her dreams come true.”
“What does she want?” asked Eddie.
“I don’t know.” Agitated, I ran a hand through my hair. “You guys are moving too fast.”
“You know her,” said Pinky with quiet intensity. “Think about it. What does she really want more than anything?”
I thought back to things she’d said. “She wants to take care of the people she loves. She wants to make people happy.”
“What does she need?” asked Plum.
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. Don’t be a jerk.”
I stared at her and realized I did have the answer. “She needs someone to put her first.”
“See?” Alaska flicked my shoulder again.
“So just tell her you love her and figure out how to be the one that puts her first,” said Pinky, with an air of finality and a regal wave of her fin in the air. “Problem solved. Who wants cake?”
TWENTY-THREE
ari
On Thursday evening, I let Veronica talk me into meeting her for a glass of wine at Lush. She was already at the bar when I arrived, and she slid off her stool to hug me. “Hey. How are you?”
“I’m okay.” I hugged her back and sat on the stool next to hers. “Sorry I missed dance class this week. Monday was Mabel’s last night in town, and we had dinner together.”
She waved a hand. “Oh, goodness. Don’t worry about that. How’s your dad?”
“He’s okay. He had the bypass yesterday and he’s recovering nicely. I think he’ll be able to go home in about a week.”
“I’m so glad to hear it.”
The bartender came over and I ordered my usual pinot noir. When it arrived, I took a big sip.
Veronica rubbed my back. “You’re holding up so well. It must have been hard saying goodbye to Dash on top of everything with your dad.”
I nodded, feeling sadness grip my throat again. I couldn’t seem to get off the verge of tears this week. “It was awful.”
“You guys looked so happy together at the wedding.”
“We were.” I set my glass down and slumped over. “God, Veronica. Why did I think I could keep my feelings for him casual?”
“I don’t know, sweetie.”
“I should have known better. I’ve loved him for too long. There was too much history.”
“That’s probably part of what makes your connection so good.”
“He has this way of being protective like a big brother, but also not like a brother at all. Did I tell you about the phone call?”
“What phone call?” Veronica sipped her wine.
“My asshole ex—the chef in Manhattan—called my cell the day the Hugo Martin post came out, just to make sure I wouldn’t enjoy it too much. He spewed a bunch of bullshit about how he taught me everything and how dare I neglect to mention him, blah blah, but that didn’t even bother me. That’s just the usual narcissism.”
“I can’t believe you hadn’t blocked him already.”
“I had. He must have gotten a new number. But anyway, he didn’t really piss me off until he insulted Moe’s—then I kind of lost my cool and yelled at him. I was in the office at the diner, and Dash was there waiting for me—he heard me raise my voice and realized who I was talking to.”
“Uh oh.”
“He stormed in there and grabbed the phone. Threatened to burn down Niall’s restaurant if he ever contacted me again.”
Veronica’s eyes widened. “Holy shit! Were you mad?”