Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Collette is watching me with best-friend levels of wariness. She knows me well enough to know that I loathe anything resembling pity, especially when it relates to my lifestyle.
My chosen lifestyle. My choice.
How dare that asshole presume that I’m some sort of sad, single girl to be pitied and planned around! How dare . . .
My gaze skirts over to Jon, who looks a little confused by what I imagine is my pissed expression. He and Collette are holding hands now, and I catch the way her knuckles tense for a split-second, and I know I’ve just witnessed a silent couple conversation. The hand squeeze that is meant to soothe, or tell him to stand down or . . .
I actually have no idea, because I’ve never been in one of those: a relationship that communicates in touch that doesn’t have to do with hooking up.
It’s a reminder, though, that this party isn’t about me, or Thomas, or the fact that I hate his high-handed, condescending interference. This is about my best friend and her future husband, who is also my friend.
It’s not Jon’s fault his brother’s an ass.
I force a smile. “Seriously, you guys. A couples thing sounds great, and it makes the most sense, honestly. I think you guys are going to love what Thomas and I have planned.”
“Awesome!” Jon says, grinning. “Mac. You are seriously cool.”
I smile back and take a sip of my wine. I am cool. But that doesn’t mean Thomas Decker and I aren’t going to have a few words.
When I leave Jon and Collette’s house a little while later, I’m feeling distinctly out of sorts for a whole jumble of reasons.
I thought I’d totally accepted the fact that she’s getting married, and I’m happy for her—for them—I really truly am.
But I’m also realizing that gone are the nights that Collette and I would spend all night talking or watching movies.
She’s part of a we now, and I’m still an I.
And happy as I am with that, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that the more friends jump on the we train, the more I’m aware of something that feels a bit like loneliness.
I frown when I realize the train of my thoughts comes awfully close to proving Thomas right: That sometimes being the only single person sucks. It’s a relatively new realization for me, and it’s a little jarring that this realization has been handed to me via a man that I don’t even like.
Just when I thought he and I were sort of making progress towards tolerating each other, he has to go and piss me off all over again.
I reach into my bag to pull out my phone to make sure I have enough money on my MetroCard app; I’m forever not realizing how low it is until I fail to get through the turnstile with a half-dozen people behind me.
I have a message from Kris Powers.
Babe. My place? You’re right, I have some things to make up to you . . .
Huh.
It’s a booty call if I’ve ever seen one, and my brain tells me to go for it. That a fun fling with a hunky trainer is exactly what I need right now. Not only because it’s been a while, but because it feels a little vindictive, like a middle finger to Thomas, even if he never knows about it.
It may be what I need.
But for some stupid reason, it’s not what I want, and I know exactly who to blame for my current mood.
Thomas gave his cell number to all of his team his first day on the job, telling us he was available any time, for any thing.
I’m pretty sure this wasn’t what he had in mind, but I really don’t give a shit.
Did you tell your brother and Collette I was the saddest single girl in all the land?
I fire off the message and glare at the screen, willing him to respond now, and the universe must have picked up my anger, because he actually does.
Yes, Mac. I said that. Those exact words. How eerie to be quoted verbatim.
Normally I’d be impressed by how clearly he manages to convey sarcasm via the written word, but I’m too irritated to compliment him.
Me: Stay out of my personal life. Just because you and perfect Anna went from strangers to plus-1 status doesn’t mean the rest of us are equally desperate.
Thomas: I’M desperate?! Which of us is throwing ourselves at a guy who CLEARLY isn’t interested? Tell me, Mac, how IS Mr. Personal Trainer?
The nerve!
I’ll be sure and let you know tomorrow morning! I’m headed over there right now!
After only a moment’s hesitation, I send the eggplant emoji as well. Just in case Thomas missed my meaning.
I wait. And wait.
Nothing.
Just as I’m about to put my phone away, it buzzes again, and I almost drop it in my haste to get it.