Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 111732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Victoria looks around the table as she says to the group, “What has that dastardly man done to our resident man-eater?” To me, specifically, she says, “Look, I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but the reality is that Max is but one tiny goldfish in a vast ocean. Take some time to mend your broken heart, yes, but then you’ll get back out there, better than ever, and catch yourself a gigantic whale.”
“That’s right!” Lucy says punching the air. “If Max is too stupid to realize you’re as good as it gets, the best he’ll ever find by a long mile, then fuck him.”
I wipe my eyes and reply weakly, “I don’t want a whale. I want Max.”
My friends share a look that conveys deep concern. And I don’t blame them. I’ve never been this girl before—a lovesick, tearful, dejected mess. Tonight, the feeble Marnie sitting at this table bears no resemblance to the kick-ass, confident one they nicknamed Marnie the Man-Eater in college.
My friends suggest perhaps I should give in and try a long-distance relationship with Max, and I tell them all the same things I told Max in Wyoming. That the logistics wouldn’t work out and the relationship would be doomed. That I know I wouldn’t feel satisfied with Max’s crumbs when I know I want the whole damned cookie. And in the end, my friends agree, regretfully, it’s probably the right call, even without knowing about my potential bun in the oven. Whether it turns out I’m gestating Max’s child or not, I want a partner who’s going to be fully present in my life. A true partner who’ll conquer the ups and downs of life at my side. If Max doesn’t want to be that partner, then I’m not going to waste my time trying to convince him. And I’m certainly not going to reveal a possible pregnancy to him as a means of getting him to commit to me.
“Max hasn’t been ghosting you, right?” Selena says. “So, there’s still hope.”
I’ve told my friends about my business-related communications with Max since we got back from Wyoming a week and a half ago. He’s called me several times to convey good news regarding the prototype he’s developing; but whenever we speak, Max is all-business, so I am too.
Jasmine, the quietest member of our group, says, “Selena’s right. As you and Max continue to talk about business stuff, I’m sure he’ll slowly realize he wants you. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Give him a chance to realize what he’s lost. Give him a chance to miss you and regret the choice he made.”
“I can’t let myself hope for that,” I say, even though it’s everything I’m hoping for. “I need to move on.”
Selena places her hand on my arm as a gesture of sympathy, inadvertently showing off the dazzling engagement ring on her hand, and I suddenly realize how selfish I’ve been to monopolize the entire dinner conversation tonight.
“Enough about me and Max,” I say, wiping my eyes with my napkin. “Selena, tell us about your trip to Costa Rica with Grayson.”
Selena kindly asks if I’m sure I’m ready to change the subject. She says the group is here for me as long as I need it. But when I insist I’m ready to move on and can’t wait to hear her news, Selena enthusiastically regales the group with stories of her fabulous trip, including showing us a slew of happy, smiling photos with her new fiancé. And, of course, we all react with interest and excitement.
Our waiter comes by with the dessert menu, and the table’s conversation shifts to which treats we’re going to order for the table. As we’re debating our options, my phone on the table buzzes with an incoming text, and I take a peek at my screen. In my fantasies, it’s Max texting to say he’s realized he’s desperately in love with me. In reality, however, I’m sure it’s my father saying Ripley wants to say goodnight to me.
“Oh my fucking god,” I blurt, instantly halting the table’s conversation. I look at the expectant faces staring back at me. “Ladies, I just got a text from motherfucking Mr. BDE.”
Everyone gasps.
“As in Max’s father?” Lucy asks. By now, the whole group knows the sordid story, so she’s not giving me away.
“Yep,” I say. “As in Alexander Vaughn—the cheating, lying sociopath himself. He’s texted me from a new number, since the old one is blocked.” I read Alexander’s short text to the table: “‘This is Alexander. Please call me, Marnie. I have something important to tell you.’”
Rapid-fire conversation ensues, culminating in Victoria asking, “Are you going to call him or block the new number?”
“Block him,” I reply. “That’s an easy one. Whatever that bastard wants to say to me, I don’t care to hear it.” I tap a few buttons on my screen and smirk. “Done.”