Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 66767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
I sniff again, loving how safe I feel with his big hand wrapped around mine. “Well, it wasn’t all that great.”
“It was,” he counters, frowning. “Having tea with you after work was always the brightest spot in my day.”
I lift what I hope is a flirty shoulder. It’s time to get back to flirting and having fun. This isn’t a night for tears. It’s a night for second chances and taking risks and realizing sometimes dreams do come true, when you least expect it. “Well, sure, tea was great. But there was one very important thing missing in our former relationship.”
“You’re right.” He smiles, a naughty grin that helps ease the last of the tightness in my chest. “See. Smart. I should know by now not to underestimate you.”
“You really should,” I say, squeezing his fingers before adding in a softer voice, “Sorry I got emotional.”
He holds my gaze, bare to me in a way I never imagined Barrett could be as he whispers, “Don’t be. Now that I know why you cried I… I’m glad.” He winces. “I mean, not glad that you cried. I’m just glad that you feel that way.”
I smile. “I know what you mean.”
“Good. Because I feel that way, too,” he says. “Which is why I planned something you didn’t ask for. I think you’ll like it more than dancing, but if I’m wrong, I have the name of a club about twenty minutes away, and we can go there instead. It just doesn’t open until ten and we have to be in our first session at eight tomorrow.” He shrugs. “And I’m old, so…”
“You’re not old,” I insist. “You’re like baby bear’s porridge.”
“Excuse me?”
“Not too hot, not too cold. Baby bear’s porridge was just right. Like you. Your age is just right,” I say, electing not to tell him that Starling thinks he’s so ancient that she doesn’t like calling him by his first name. “But I get it. Eight a.m. is early, and a surprise sounds good. Better than good, actually. Thank you.”
He smiles, a hopeful smile that’s so beautiful I almost start crying again.
But I don’t. Because I’m determined not to do anything else to dull the magic of this night. I don’t know what’s gotten into Barrett—maybe he got some great advice from Drew and Tatum, maybe our time apart made him realize what he was about to lose, maybe both—but he’s making me believe I wasn’t wrong to pine after him for so long.
Though, looking back, I do wish I’d made a move sooner. When I think of all the nights, we could have been heading back to his place to get naked instead of sipping tea and discussing the latest birthing trend, I could slap us both.
On the way to the truck, I stop by the ladies’ room to touch up my makeup and text Tatum a quick—Thank you. Whatever you and Drew said to Barrett, it was perfect. We’re having an amazing night!
Just a few seconds later, Tatum texts back—It’s all him, babes. We gave him a few tips, but the fact that he reached out for help at all is all you really need to know. He wants to be your guy, and he’s willing to get out of his comfort zone to make it happen.
Heart beating faster, I toss my lipstick back into my purse and text—You really think so? You think he wants to be my guy?
Tatum sends over a rolling eye emoji. Of course, he does! I mean, he didn’t say so flat out or anything, but you don’t go to this much trouble for a woman you want to spend a long weekend with before you go your separate ways.
I nod and smooth the wrinkles from the front of my dress with a shaking hand. Then, remembering Tatum can’t see me, I text—Right. You’re right. Okay, wish me luck. We’re leaving the restaurant now, heading for a surprise.
Have fun! Tatum says. And don’t stress. Everything is going to fall into place just the way it should. That’s what happens when two people are meant to be.
Meant to be…
As I step out the front door to the restaurant to see Barrett leaning against the passenger’s side of the truck in the last of the fading sunset light, I’m suddenly sucked back in time to that night in sixth grade. When I was so scared, I was about to wet my pants and so embarrassed to be the only fraidy cat who couldn’t watch horror movies. I was certain my friends were going to stop inviting me to sleepovers if I couldn’t woman up and force myself back into the darkness of the McGuire’s basement TV room.
And then, there Barrett was, offering me compassion, company, and snacks, proving what an incredible heart he has. Even at seventeen, he was a man in the best sense of the word. He went out of his way to comfort one of his little sister’s friends, when most boys his age would have ignored or teased me.