Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 95264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
I can’t even blame my brother. When Bill and I first hooked up years ago, Joe was pissed. He wouldn’t talk to either of us for days, and when he came around, he swore he’d never take sides between his sister and his best friend if we broke up, no matter what.
I was shocked when Joe showed solidarity, punching Bill across the jaw and ignoring his calls for a few weeks. But I knew that wouldn’t last. They’ve been best friends since the day they met. They went to college together and have never lived more than a twenty-minute subway ride apart. They start every day swapping sports stats over the phone while sitting on their respective toilets.
“Look, we’re all disappointed with the situation—”
“The situation?” She says it like Bill got a flat tire and was late to work one day. “You mean when he got caught sticking his dick in his coworker?” Close enough, given the explicit texts I discovered on his phone.
“Justine.” Mom’s cheeks flush as she scans around us to see if anyone heard her daughter’s crass remarks.
“Whatever,” I huff. “It’s my own damn fault. I should never have taken him back in the first place.” We dated while I was in college until Bill broke it off to “figure things out.” I was crushed. I’d been in love with him since I was twelve. Imagine my surprise when he showed up at a family barbecue with Debra. One wedding, a daughter, and a divorce later, he came crawling back to me. I should’ve seen myself for what I’ve always been to him, though—a fill-in until something better comes along. No wonder he was so hesitant to live together.
And now he has Isabelle, who Joe begrudgingly informed me has asked Bill to move into her midtown condo with her.
He probably didn’t blink when he said yes.
“Do they still have the Oreo cannoli?” I ask, abruptly changing the subject to keep my emotions in check before I turn into a lip-quivering mess.
“I don’t see why they wouldn’t.” Mom lifts her chin, trying to spy over the sea of shoulders. It’s no use; she’s even shorter than I am.
“They better, or Uncle Jay is gonna ride my ass hard.”
“Honestly, I don’t know where you earned that mouth of yours.”
“From your father.”
Mom grunts but doesn’t deny it. She can’t. Gramps was a sweet old man, but he could have headlined a Quentin Tarantino movie for all his cussing.
“Speaking of your uncle, he’s not happy with the man he hired to replace you.”
“I warned him that guy didn’t know his head from his asshole, but he didn’t listen.” Through a narrow crack in the crowd, I spy the tray of limoncello cannoli dwindling. They’re not the most popular, but they’re my favorite, and they never make enough.
“Your uncle is as stubborn and hardheaded as your father.” She pauses. “But he’d let you come back in a heartbeat.”
“I know.” That’s why Jay’s driving to Boston this weekend: to promise me the sun, the moon, and the North Star until I agree to work for him again. “I already told him no. I just … I can’t.” I needed a big change.
“You know what he said to your father the other day?” Mom drops her voice conspiratorially, though no one’s listening. “When he kicks the bucket, he’ll leave the company to you.”
“Come on.” I snort. “Jay isn’t kicking any buckets anytime soon.” My dad’s baby brother is a fit fifty-two-year-old who has no interest in retiring. “And running a skilled trades agency isn’t the life I want.” Even though I had become a master at matching candidates with the right employers. I’d even started recruiting clients. Of the new companies we partnered with in the past year, I brought in eighty percent of them.
Mom worries her lip as if weighing her next words. “But selling refrigerators in a tiny town in Pennsylvania is?”
There it is: the judgment I’ve been waiting for. When I told her I’d started at Murphy’s Appliances in Polson Falls a few weeks before Christmas, she asked the usual questions but didn’t share her opinion. I knew it would come. “I don’t just sell fridges. Ovens too. And washing machines. The occasional microwave.”
“Justine—”
“Like I said, it’s temporary. The hours are good, there’s no stress, and it’s a four-minute drive from home.”
“I don’t see why you had to uproot your entire life.”
“There was nothing to uproot. Besides, Scarlet’s in Pennsylvania.” There should be no need to elaborate. My best friend and I lived together for a decade before she bought a house in her hometown. When I caught Bill cheating, she’s the one I ran to. I sure as hell wasn’t running back to Boston, where everything reminds me of him. “Look, I am in what they call a transition stage of my life. Nothing is permanent. The world is my oyster.” I hold out my hands for dramatic flair. “Now, can we talk about something other than my poor life choices?”