Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 103102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
I wait for her to pass slices of cake around the room, then I sneak to the backyard. It takes too long to move through the crowded space. There are too many people eager to order drinks, dance, wish Lexi a happy birthday.
My fingers curl around the paper in my hands. The card. Of course.
It is her birthday. I need to give her this. When I finally make it through the backyard, I move through the side yard, to the front of the house. A quiet spot.
Only the porch isn’t empty.
Lexi’s sister Deanna is standing at the railing, shifting her weight between her combat boots, sighing with exhaustion as she beams with pride. I hadn’t realized she slipped out of the house. I was so focused on Lexi and nothing and no one else in the room.
Deanna is pretty, in her own way. Not pretty like Lexi. Maybe pretty isn’t the right word, it’s more like… I don’t know. I’m terrible with words. All I know is what I see—
She notices me, her head turning toward me, and her expression fades to something I don’t like: pity.
She spots the envelope in my hand. It’s obvious what it is, who it’s for. “I can deliver that if you’d like,” she says.
“Will you?” I have no specific reason to doubt her. Only the vague sense she, like everyone else, disapproves of my feelings for Lexi.
“I’m a woman of my word.” She offers her hand.
I believe her. Deanna is many things. Honest is one of them. I place the card in her palm.
“Can I give you some advice?” Deanna asks.
“About what?”
“Your lack of combat boots,” she says drily. “What do you think?”
I smirk a little. “Well… My wardrobe does lack combat boots.” We live in Southern California, though. There’s no need for boots most of the year.
We both know she didn’t mean the boots.
“Even if Lexi liked guys like you, she isn’t like you,” Deanna says. “She’s sweet in her way, but she’s not romantic. She’ll never appreciate hand-drawn birthday cards or sunset sails or long walks on the beach.”
“How do you know?” I ask.
“Because I’m the same way,” Deanna says.
“You and Lexi are the same?” I raise a brow. There’s very little the sisters have in common. Besides their last name and their aptitude for achievement.
“With this, yes. We love, but we aren’t romantics. We’re too practical for that, at least I am, and Lexi…” She trails off, her eyes going distant for a moment, before she continues. “You’re better off forgetting about her. Find someone else, study abroad, whatever it takes to get her out of your head.”
Her words are a kick to the gut. She wants me to forget about Lexi?
“Good night, Deanna.” I take a step backward. To head back home. To my room. The only place where I can safely process and express my feelings. Through art.
“It’s nothing personal, River. I like you,” she says, and I believe her. She has no reason to lie. Not about this or anything. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Same thing Grandma said. I shrug as if I don’t care.
“Good night.” She turns and walks back into the house.
I move down the stairs, through the side yard, to my too-empty house.
Deanna has the same advice Grandma does. It’s just as annoying coming from someone who knows Lexi as well as Grandma knows me.
But that doesn’t make it less true.
That’s the problem.
They’re both right.
I need to move on. I’m already going to spend my summer at an art program in New York City, so maybe…maybe that’s what I need to forget about Lexi. She hardly knows I even exist. Part of me understands that taking their advice is probably for my own good, but…
How can anyone forget the warmth of the sun?
Chapter One
Deanna
“Look at that, Dee. Five months, twenty-six days,” Lexi squeals as she sends a thumbs-up to her boyfriend’s text, then slips her phone into her purse. She steps into the huge elevator and presses the button for the penthouse floor. “Can you believe I’ve been with Jake that long?”
“Of course I can believe it. I believe in the app, and the app said you two are a match.” I follow her into the small space and keep my eyes on the buttons.
Wilder Investments.
And we’re meeting with the head, Willa Wilder.
Maybe, since we’re meeting with a woman, we have a chance. Women are more willing to invest in products for women. I don’t even care that the app isn’t just for women, it is for women, and that’s all that matters today. As long as we have a chance. Any chance.
I can admit it. I’m desperate. We’re burning through cash at a rapid rate. Between salaries, office space, and advertisements, we’re far, far in the red. Which is normal, for a start-up our size. That’s the business model. Expand fast. Worry about revenue later. Most tech companies haven’t even monetized yet when they sell for millions (or billions) of dollars.