Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“No, you’re not fine,” I say. “Get up.” She’s the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met in my life. She makes no move to comply, so I bend down and scoop her up. She flails in my arms, trying to escape, but she’s no match for me, and I dump her down onto the bed. “You’re sleeping in the bed. If you don’t think two adults can share a bed without getting naked, I’ll happily take the couch.” I glance at the small couch and revise my thought. “I’ll be fine on the floor.”
Lucy pushes up on the bed so she’s sitting. “You can’t sleep on the floor.” She presses her lips into a thin line. “We’ll have to share.” She scoots over. “But we need a pillow wall.”
I chuckle. “You think I won’t be able to resist you?”
She doesn’t look at me, and I enjoy her embarrassment a little. We were definitely flirting on the beach. When she’s not so uptight, trying to make everything perfect, she’s fun and pretty and . . . sensitive. She’s all the words I wouldn’t have used to describe Lucy when I first met her. She also makes incredible s’mores. I wonder if her mouth still tastes of chocolate. What? Where did that thought come from?
“Just help me with the wall,” she says, still avoiding my gaze.
Silently, we put pillows down the center of the bed and then slip under the covers.
“You okay over there?” I call dramatically.
“You’re ridiculous,” she replies.
I pull the pillow at the top off the bed and toss it behind me so I can see Lucy. She’s lying facing me. She doesn’t object.
“Maybe I am,” I reply.
“The fire worked out,” she says. “Just like Katherine wanted.”
“Just like Katherine wanted,” I reply, searching her gaze. But did she enjoy tonight? Surely not everything has to be about Katherine.
“Tomorrow is fishing,” she says. “For you guys, anyway.”
“Right,” I say, just before I remember I haven’t brought my seasickness pills. “Shit.”
Lucy pushes up on her hands so she’s sitting. “What? Did you forget to confirm or something?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t bring my seasickness pills.”
“You get seasick?” she asks.
“Yeah, I’m not a good boat passenger.”
She giggles, and it sounds so young and carefree and fucking intimate I feel it in my balls. It’s like this version of Lucy is the real one. The one that doesn’t care what people think. The one that can be herself. This is the one I like. I really like.
“Why on earth did you arrange a fishing trip for this weekend if you get seasick?”
“Why do you think?”
She shrugs and flops back down on the bed. “I guess because Ed likes fishing so much.”
“Exactly. We all do things we don’t want to do for people we love.”
Her eyes grow wide. “But—”
“But there’s a line. Or there should be. You don’t need to give up yourself to make everyone happy. There’s a line.”
Looking back, I took on my father’s business because I knew it would make him happy—make him proud of me. And I kept at it—kept administering CPR on the business when I should have called time of death months before. I didn’t, because I wanted to make my dad happy. I won’t make the same mistake again. I didn’t realize until this moment that my biggest mistake was not seeing the line. I didn’t necessarily know to look for it then, but experience taught me a hard lesson. It’s not one I’ll soon forget.
“A line?”
“A line between making someone you love happy and sacrificing everything to make it happen.”
Lucy blinks, and blinks again. “You think I cross that line?”
I shrug. “I think you love your sister. You want to make this weekend perfect. I get it. But I think Katherine will be happy to be with her friends and family. I don’t think she cares about color-blended blankets.”
She sighs. “Yeah. Maybe.”
The corners of my mouth twitch. “Maybe?” I can almost see her mind working. “Maybe you look good in yellow, even if your mother doesn’t think so.”
She looks so fresh and open, I have to stop myself from reaching over and cupping her face. She looks so warm and relaxed.
“Can I ask you a question?” she asks, her hands neatly pressed together under her face as she looks at me.
“Anything,” I say.
“Anything?” She grins, a mischievous smile on her face that lights up those green eyes.
“Anything.”
“And you’ll tell me the truth?”
“Yes,” I say before I can poke holes in the idea of being entirely honest with the woman next to me.
“Do you like Katherine?”
She’s dropped a grenade over the pillow wall, and we’re both waiting for it to explode.
“You’re asking me if I like your sister?” I ask, stalling.
“You promised to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.” Her tone isn’t the pushy, indignant one I’ve gotten used to in the run-up to this joint weekend away. It’s playful and lacking agenda.