Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 129131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Loretta is only kidding, but all it does is remind me of sex with Noah. The best sex I’ve ever had.
“Can’t do that,” Arielle says, holding up a hand as she picks up her beer with her other hand. “He might be an asshole, but he is my brother. Sort of need his DNA to keep the family tree going or I’ll have to answer to my mom about grandkids someday.”
“Ah, good point.” Loretta sounds disappointed and tries again. “Well, what about his car? We could let the air out of a couple of his tires. What do you say, Arielle? We could go easy on him and deflate them or balls to the wall and slash ’em.”
“Oh, you can slash those tires all you want,” Arielle says easily. “He can afford some new Goodyears.”
“Only three,” Becky pipes up, holding up three fingers. “If you do all four, insurance will cover them. Three, and it’s all on him.”
“Uhm, ladies?” Simon says uneasily. He’s looking at his wife with suspicion. “I don’t want to know why you know that, so how about we just sing some more?”
“Veto,” Arielle sings.
“No fun,” Loretta argues.
Becky laughs and gives her husband a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t worry, honey, we’re just helping Riley feel angry. Just a bit of ‘I am woman, hear me roar’ fantasizing. We’re not actually going to start playing choppy-choppy anytime soon.”
“As long as you boys behave,” Arielle warns them, and Eli gulps.
But then Arielle and Eli share a secret smile.
It should make me smile, seeing their playful banter, but I can’t feel much more than a bland emptiness as Loretta, Becky, and Arielle pass the microphone around, taking turns and singing.
When it’s my turn, I don’t have a song. Or the strength to sing, especially after hitting the bottom of the glass on the Break-Up Special, as Maylee told us my drink is called. “Sorry, guys, uh, maybe Eli can have another turn?” I suggest.
“You sure?” Loretta asks. “I mean, you’d feel a hell of a lot better after a round of Savage. They’ve got the edited version in here.” She starts flipping through songs on the computer screen, trying to find something I’ll sing.
I manage a smile, shaking my head. “Not this time. Maybe later?”
I’ve basically traded my couch for the booth seat and the distraction of my television for my friends’ singing. But it does feel better to be surrounded by them. As long as I don’t have to actually participate.
Loretta presses her lips together but hands the microphone to Eli. He sings, and then Simon takes a turn, but once everyone but me has had their shot at the mic, we sit and sip on our drinks, eating the plates of appetizers Maylee brought us.
“Are you drunk enough to tell us what happened yet?” Loretta asks.
I swallow the fried mushroom cap I just popped in my mouth. I’ve been hoovering them down.
Loretta grunts. “Ow!” She rubs her leg beneath the table, and my guess is that someone kicked her to tell her to be quiet.
But this is what they’re here for. Other than to distract me, they want to help. And these are the people I trust. We’ve been through so much together.
So, as hard as it is, I tell them all about the crazy conversation with Noah and how it turned into a fight, each of them asking questions and making points as I go.
By the end, the alcohol in my second drink has fully kicked in and I’m spilling my guts in a major case of verbal diarrhea. “I feel so . . . empty. I want to go to his place and tell him I’m sorry. I want him to hold me, make me his again. Fill my heart back up with him.”
Eli mutters under his breath, “I don’t think that’s what he’s supposed to fill. Maybe you’re doing it wrong?”
Arielle puts her hand over his mouth and glares at him.
“I love him, guys. What do I do?” Tears spring to my eyes again, even though I thought I’d cried them all out.
Becky offers me a clean napkin. “Of course you love him. It wouldn’t hurt so much if you didn’t.” I swipe at my eyes and look at her. Her eyes are kind, her words gentle as she asks me, “Did you think this was going to be easy?”
I shake my head. “No. I know relationships take work, but—”
“No but,” Simon says, interrupting me. “That’s the complete sentence. Relationships take work.” He takes Becky’s hand, and they meet eyes, saying so much with a single look.
Becky smiles sweetly at her husband and then turns back to me, her gaze hardening. I swear she’s already got a Mom Look down pat and she’s using it on me like I’m a disobedient child acting up in the middle of the Target produce section. “The truth is . . . you and Noah just met, at least for real. And it’s only been a short time. You’re still learning about each other, for fuck’s sake—who you are and who he is. Maybe he overstepped, and maybe you overreacted? But this is either a chance to decide this isn’t worth it, in which case, carry on with your pity party, or an opportunity to figure out how to communicate with each other, in which case, you need to get off your butt and apologize.”