Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
My chest burns from holding back an ugly cry just beneath the surface.
Birthdays are always hard.
Growing up, Mom would treat birthdays with the pageantry of a royal coronation. There would be balloons greeting you in the hallway when you woke up. A cupcake for breakfast. A rendition of “Happy Birthday” that was off-pitch and wonderful. There would be the warmest hugs and multicolored icing—enough sprinkles to drown a small child. And laughter—so much laughter.
I’ve been dreading this day for weeks. I dread Brock’s too. With every year that passes, it’s more time without Mom—the sound of her voice fading, the warmth of her hugs harder to remember. I’m that much closer to losing Brock, too.
Although I’d never admit it to him, or anyone, I secretly fear the day he gets married. I hate that I feel this way and feel so guilty about it. But he’s my only family, and I'll be alone when he starts his own.
Unless I get my shit together and start one myself.
“I’m not alone right now,” I whisper, pulling my fingers out of the water and watching droplets form and fall into the bath. “So go enjoy the night, live it up with my friends, and start Operation Get Your Shit Together tomorrow.”
I sniffle before taking a deep breath and blowing it out slowly. Breathe in new beginnings and exhale the old.
“Hey, Blakely. I need your help,” Ella says from the other side of the bathroom door.
I sink lower beneath the bubbles. “Come in.”
She nearly trips on her armful of dresses and catches herself on the sink.
I giggle. “If you had packed less, you would have fewer choices to struggle with.”
“Don’t talk to me like that.” She drops a load of colorful fabrics on the counter. “Negative energy isn’t welcome here.”
“I’m sorry.”
She blows a lock of hair out of her face and sits on the edge of a footstool. “I’m glad you’re as far behind as I am with getting ready.”
“How long has it been?”
“Since I was up here, and we agreed to leave in an hour? Forty-five minutes.”
“Shit.”
She laughs. “It’s fine. I think Brock knew better and made the reservations for later to begin with. I don’t know what I was thinking, giving us an hour to get ready. Did I forget who we are?”
I eye the dresses filling the basin. “So how many have you narrowed it down to?”
“Four.”
I snort.
She pulls out an emerald-green garment. “I love this color, and this cut is great on me, but I’m not sure it’s birthday festive. It might be more holiday party.” She holds it against her body. “Thoughts? Opinions?”
“That’s definitely Christmas with acquaintances.”
“That’s what I thought.” She trades it for a canary-yellow option. “What about this one?”
I hum in thought. “That’s more beach vacation, I think.”
“Dammit. You’re right.” She picks up a black dress with a bit of sparkle. “I really like this one.”
I run my hands through the water, ensuring the bubbles cover my bits. “Me too. And you are always hot in black. But what else did you bring?”
“This.” She holds up a red number that I know from previous outings looks incredible on her. “I love this one too. But I feel super bloated today, and I’m not sure how it really looks. I tried them all on for Brock, but he was no help at all.”
“I bet he was absolutely riveted about the dress options with you standing naked in front of him.”
Ella shrugs. “You do make a valid point.”
“Try on the black and the red ones for me. We’ll see which one makes you feel the prettiest.”
Relief washes across her face. “You’re the greatest.”
“I know.”
We exchange a smile as she strips off Brock’s T-shirt. Modesty left this friendship months ago.
“So,” she says, grinning. “How was it with Renn?”
I smile, sinking even deeper into the water.
“Go. Put some distance between us. Now.”
“Oh, it was fine,” I say, hoping I can blame my blush on the water.
“It was fine, my ass. Things are never fine with the two of you unless that means on the verge of fornication.”
I laugh. The movement causes a wave of bath water to roll into my open mouth, choking me.
Ella laughs harder. “See? God knew you were about to lie to me and stopped you.”
My palm presses against my chest as if the motion will help expel the liquid from my lungs. I cough and sputter until all that’s left is the taste of soap.
“How’s this?” Ella does her best model walk across the travertine. “Black is slimming, and the lace peeking out at the tops of my boobs is super sexy, right?”
“You’re hot. Try the red, though, to be sure.”
She busies herself by swapping dresses.
My mind, however, floats to Renn.
“Remember something,” he says, eyes sparkling. “You said no.”
“No, I didn’t. We said no.”
He releases me slowly, smirking. “I didn’t say shit.”