One Night Stand-In (Boyfriend Material #3) - Lauren Blakely Page 0,67
her. Facts are facts, and they need to be laid out. “We were great friends. The best of friends back then. And I was falling hard for her. But I said some stupid things, and we never made up, and we became enemies over the years. And then this weekend . . .”
I take a beat as the memories of the weekend, still so damn potent, flood my mind and spread through all the molecules in my body. “We spent an amazing weekend together. Well, it was twenty-four hours, but I just knew . . . I knew,” I say, my heart crawling up into my throat again.
Meg’s eyes widen. “You knew that you wanted another chance?”
I nod. “Yes,” I say, laying it all out there for a perfect stranger and my best friend.
“A second chance at love? And you’re sitting here sad instead of telling her the truth of your heart?” Her question is simple.
And maybe that’s why it jars me.
It knocks me out of my funk.
My horrible mood caused by a terrible case of falling in love and burying that feeling like an ostrich shoving its head in the sand.
I’ve been denying everything, ignoring everything, and forcing my feelings into a box, closing the lid and hiding it in a corner of the attic where it’ll be buried for years again if I don’t open it.
Wait. That’s wrong.
More like a lifetime.
And that’s not a way to live.
I stand. “No. I’m not sitting here.” I stab my finger against the table. “I’m not sitting here another damn minute. You know why?” I ask, suddenly emboldened. Because in the grand scheme of things, the last few days without her is the blink of an eye. It’s nothing. But we’ve veered down this road before. And no way am I taking ten more years to find my way back to her.
Fuck adulting.
Because this? This is adulting.
Deciding.
Right here, right now, I’m deciding to do love differently.
Love might be dangerous, but not loving is deadly.
I’ll take my chances. Because Lola is worth it.
“Why?” Meg asks, returning to my question.
“Because I fell in love with Lola ten years ago, and I never told her. And I lost her. I’m not losing her again.” I hold out my arms wide. “It’s that simple.” And when I say it, something loosens in me. Not a weight, but a knot. A knot of frustration at the world, at people, at the way things don’t work out. I turn to Meg. “I’m sorry I was rude about not watching your laptop. I get it. You had to pee. It’s all good.” I turn to Reid. “And I’m sorry I’m a dick sometimes.”
“Sometimes?” he asks with a laugh.
“A lot,” I correct.
He waves it off. “You’re a good one, mate.”
I turn to the pregnant woman again. “I think it’s great that your husband gets you coconut whipped cream. I have someone I want to do that for, and I can’t wait to tell her.”
Reid cuts in, raising a hand. “But don’t you have to go make that presentation at the awards ceremony?”
I smile. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
29
Lola
The thing about being the responsible one is just that—responsibility weighs on you.
It nags you.
It tells you to head downtown to the hotel where the Design-Off event is held, bring your laptop, and have your pitch ready.
I’m wearing a blue pencil skirt, a white short-sleeve blouse, and polka-dot heels.
I’m professional but artsy.
It’s perfect for the presentation I have to give, right before Lucas’s slot.
It’s perfect to wear as I share my vision with experts in my field.
It’s perfect for being the responsible one.
I have a plan. Present, wait, and then grab that man and tell him how I feel.
But here’s the other thing.
Hearts have a mind of their own.
Because when I arrive at the Luxe Hotel, I don’t listen to my head. I listen to my heart.
And my heart says he’s here.
He’s waiting for me outside the building, looking cool and gorgeous in a charcoal suit with a crisp white shirt and no tie. His hair is messy, like it usually is, and the most delicious amount of stubble lines his jaw.
Slamming the door of the cab, I hoist my purse with my laptop in it higher on my shoulder, and I walk.
To him.
To possibility.
To a chance.
Not just a second chance, but a terrifying and thrilling chance at love. The very thing that has taunted me my whole life.