Triplets for The Millionaire - K.C. Crowne Page 0,38

and strode away, a small smile of victory on my face in spite of the fear running through me.

I snapped back into the present moment, looking around to see that I’d driven – totally through muscle memory – to Mom’s place. I was already parked and everything. I needed a moment. Josh was in the past and I was happy for it. But that didn’t mean thoughts of him and that day didn’t bring back anger and fear in equal measures.

“Oh,” Mom said once I was inside and seated on the bed across from where she sat. “That sounds exciting.”

“It sounds immature,” I said. “Going on an adventure? What am I, some twenty-two-year-old kid on Tinder? I don’t go on adventures.”

“And why not?”

“Because the last time I went on an adventure with a guy I almost ended up on the ocean floor. And when I came back onto shore, I was single again.”

Mom rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Josh. What a shithead.”

“Mom!” I said, holding back a laugh. Didn’t matter how many times I’d heard it, or how old I was – hearing Mom cuss was always a trip.

“Spoiled little rich brat,” she said. “But you know what? Maybe him coming up against a problem, like that storm, he couldn’t use dad’s money to buy his way out of humbled the kid a little. That, and you kicking his ass to the curb.”

“You’d be wrong about that,” I said. “I internet-stalked him a few years ago and saw that he’d gotten married and divorced. Not sure what happened, but the Facebook comments made it sound like he cheated.”

“Then good riddance. Shame you had to go through what you did to finally tell him off. But at least you dodged a bullet.”

I sighed, the conversation not bringing me any closer to a decision about Patrick.

“Just because Josh was that way,” Mom said, seeming to pick up on my hesitation, “doesn’t mean every guy is like that. And you know what else? You’ll never know unless you give him a chance.”

“But what if he ends up being the exact same kind of guy as Josh? What if I’m doomed to attract this exact kind of guy?”

Mom shook her head. “Stop talking about your story like it’s already been written. And baby, you can’t deal with uncertainty by just hiding out from love for the rest of your life.”

“I’m not hiding out, I’m playing it cautious.”

“You’re throwing yourself into your work and trying to pretend you don’t want love just like everyone else. You keep this up, you’re going to end up alone.”

“Worse things than that,” I said. “And besides, you’re alone here and you’re happy.”

Mom let out a wild cackle, as if I’d just said the most ridiculous thing imaginable. “You think I’m alone?”

“I mean, you’ve got friends. But it’s not like you’re dating anyone.”

“Tell that to Frankie. And Charlie. But, ah, don’t tell them both at the same time. They kind of don’t know about each other.”

A shocked laugh flew out of my mouth. “Mom, I know you can’t see me right now, but my jaw was on the floor.”

Mom laughed. “Then pick it up and put yourself back out there. Love’s not going to come get you out of your apartment. You want it, you have to be bold, put yourself out there.” She raised a finger toward me. “And not be scared when it finally shows up.”

Chapter 11

PATRICK

My Nikes pounded on the treadmill as I ran hard, sweat beading on my forehead and my legs sore and tired in the best way possible. The view from Finn and Kenna’s home gym didn’t hurt matters at all. From where I ran, I could see out over the sweep of the nearby valley, the white rolling and endless, the stars twinkling above.

But nature wasn’t on my mind. Lola was.

“So,” Finn interrupted the silence, “what’s the story?”

He set down the forty-kilogram barbell he’d been using for his curls, then dropped into a seat on the nearest bench.

I raised a finger, my eyes on the digital clock on the treadmill as I pushed closer and closer to thirty minutes. My lungs burned, sweat stung my eyes. When the timer rolled over, I hit stop. The whirring of the treadmill slowed and slowed, and I grabbed onto the safety bars to give myself a moment to catch my breath.

Not to mention a moment to think about his question.

“There’s no story,” I said. “We’ve got plans tomorrow, and she was hesitant when I