Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Until tonight.
“I’m so sorry, sweetie,” Daphne says, though it’s more of a croak-moan. “I seriously thought I was just tired this morning and the stomachache would pass, but just now as I was getting ready… I’ll spare you the details.”
“Don’t apologize for being sick,” I say firmly. “It’s an affront to our friendship. You put on your baggiest, comfiest pajamas, lie down, watch something terrible, sleep. Whatever you need. Can I bring you anything? Crackers? Gatorade? Company?”
“I wish I could say yes, but I think I just want to go curl up in the bed and listen to my Twilight audiobooks.”
I smile. Daphne loves Twilight. She’s read the books and seen the movies more times than I can count, and it’s her go-to whenever hungover or sick.
“Give Edward my best,” I say.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” Daphne says, her voice slightly pleading. “I can’t believe this is happening in a year when you just went through a breakup.”
“I’m really good, Daph,” I promise. I don’t tell her that I’ve barely thought of Christian since, and even when I do, it’s largely in relation to Kylee. For reasons I fully understand, Kylee’s opted to pause our tutoring sessions, but it still stings a little. I miss her and the chance to talk to someone about the cosmos.
“Okay,” she says reluctantly. “I love you. You know that.”
“Always. Love you, too.”
I hang up with my best friend and set my phone on the counter with the tiniest of sighs. I meant what I told Daphne. I would never be mad at her for having to cancel because she’s sick. She could have canceled because she met a cute guy, and I still wouldn’t be mad at her. That’s just not how we operate.
But none of that changes the fact that I have an elaborate table for two set, and what I think is a pretty lovely baked Brie, beef Wellington, au gratin potatoes, and homemade chocolate soufflé waiting.
Not to mention my new red dress. One of my favorite stores had a sale and it felt made for me.
I glance in the direction of the fish tank. “I guess it’s you and me, Andromeda.”
I’d like to think she waves her tail at me in greeting as she glides by, but it’s not much to work with.
Unless…
My eyes cut to my cell phone.
It’s flirting with disaster. I know that. In a few short months, Simon Archer will be out of my life. Even if he weren’t, he wants nothing to do with me romantically, and hanging out with him on Valentine’s Day is only going to shine a big old spotlight on that.
Your instincts are spot-on, and every step you take now is a necessary part of your journey toward what you’ve been seeking.
“Alright, horoscope,” I mutter. “You’ve gotten me this far.”
I pick up my phone and call Archer.
It rings endlessly, and I’m about to end the call when he picks up. “Randy?”
“Hey.”
A pause. “Everything okay?”
“Of course, why?”
“This is the first time you’ve ever called me. You either text or barge in.”
“I barge in?!” I shake my head, even though he can’t see me. “Never mind. Is Alyssa in town today?”
Another pause. “No. Why would she be?”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. Valentine’s Day.”
“Why would she be in New York City because it’s Valentine’s Day… Oh. Sure. Right. No, she’s not here.”
I roll my eyes upward. The man is the very opposite of a romantic.
“So, what’s up?” he asks a touch impatiently. “Your dress zipper caught before a date with Christian?”
Even though it’s been just a few weeks, my memories of Christian feel so faded and distant that the question catches me off guard.
“Christian and I broke up a few weeks ago.”
There’s another pause, even longer this time. “Oh.”
I roll my eyes again. It’s a good thing I wasn’t expecting a bigger reaction, because I definitely didn’t get it.
“Okay, so look,” I say. “Daphne and I usually do a whole Galentine’s thing together, but she came down with a nasty stomach bug. So now I have all this food, and… are you hungry?”
“On Valentine’s Day?”
His wariness of the holiday is so purely single man that I rub a thumb between my eyebrows for patience. “Don’t worry, I promise not to wait until the end of dinner before proposing.”
“Does inviting me in Daphne’s stead have anything to do with your horoscope?”
I blink. “Well, actually, now that you mention it—”
“Then no. Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got work to do.”
He hangs up without waiting for my response, and even for Archer, it’s abrupt. I pull the phone away and stare at it. “Alright then.”
So, a solo night. I can make that work. Lots of practice.
I put my fancy baked Brie dish into the oven and try to decide between champagne and the nice red wine I’ve had decanting since noon. Mostly, I try not to dwell on the sharpness of Archer’s rejection. I wasn’t expecting him to fall all over himself to spend the hearts-and-flowers holiday with his platonic neighbor, but that the prospect was that distasteful…