Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
She shrugs, her expression shuttering. “Nothing conclusive yet. Police don’t have any solid leads on Borovsky.”
My heart sinks not only at her words but at the tone in her voice. It sounds sad and somewhat hopeless.
With her back to me, Bebe works the machine to produce what looks like a double-shot espresso. When she has it in hand, she nods to the stools on the other side of the island and moves that way. I follow, and once I’m seated, her first words take me aback. “I’m a little pissed at Dozer.”
My eyebrows shoot high. “Why?”
Bebe looks off to the side a moment, then back to me with a shrug. “It’s just… you’re such an important part of Dozer’s life—along with your daughter, of course—and I never knew about you. You’re so special to him, and I didn’t know that, and we’re supposedly best friends.”
“Or,” I muse with a twisting in my gut, “I’m not special at all since he didn’t tell you about me.”
Bebe waves a hand and scoffs. “You’re special. Trust me on that.”
“Did you ask Dozer why he didn’t tell you?” This is more curiosity on my part because now I’m starting to doubt just how much he cares if he didn’t tell this woman, who I know he’s incredibly close to.
“I did, and as far as excuses go, it wasn’t awful.” Her tone is such that I can tell she won’t reveal any of Dozer’s confidences to me, and while I’d love to know where that man’s head is, I also respect her for being a good friend. Bebe leans forward in her chair. “Can I ask you something personal?”
The fact she added the word personal tells me to be wary, but Bebe has this genuine matter-of-factness to her that tells me she doesn’t ask personal questions unless she deems them necessary. In other words, she doesn’t seem the type to thrive on frivolous conversation.
“Sure,” I reply easily.
“What are your feelings for Dozer?”
Six little words that add up to a very big question indeed.
“It’s complicated,” I say.
“Most feelings are,” she replies with a knowing look. “Ask my fiancé Griff. He can give you war stories about how he tried to sift through my shitshow of feelings.”
I laugh, nodding in understanding. Playing with the edge of my cup, I tell her the truth about Dozer. It’s the same truth I’ve already told him. “I love him.”
“What kind of love?” she asks. Clearly, she was anticipating my answer as she wants further clarification.
“The confusing kind,” I reply glumly. “The all-encompassing kind. The kind where I’m not sure where the lines between friendship and lovers are blurred.”
“Are you lovers?” Bebe blurts out.
“No.” I’m alarmed she’d even suggest it, but in the same thought, I’m not afraid to admit, at least to myself, that I’ve thought about it a time or ten. “But… we’re talking about feelings that are surpassing friendship, so that’s obviously something to think about.”
Or rather, not think so much about.
I take another sip, set the cup down, and then just go all in with my curiosity with Dozer’s best friend. She asked some probing questions, so why shouldn’t I? “What are Dozer’s feelings for me?”
The look she gives me is chastising. She’s his confidante, and she’s not going to spill anything Dozer’s divulged.
Instead, she asks me a follow-up. “Why don’t you just sit down and talk to him about your… um… complicated feelings?”
That’s easy. “Because once I tell him, if he doesn’t feel the same, I can’t take it back. I can’t take away the awkwardness that will come and the inevitable way he’ll balance every single thing I say to see if I’m hopelessly in love with him. Eventually, it’ll cause him to withdraw from our lives.”
To my surprise, Bebe laughs, and it’s not just a slight chuckle. It’s a deep belly laugh, and she throws her head back. When she brings her eyes to me again, she says, “God, you’re fucking adorable. So is Dozer.”
“Um… thank you,” I drawl slowly, not sure if I’ve been complimented or insulted.
Bebe hops off her stool, finishes her espresso, and sets the cup down. She puts both her hands on my shoulders and squeezes. “My biggest piece of advice to you is to be honest in your feelings. Nothing good will come of you keeping things in.”
That advice is actually wasted on me. Not because it isn’t good, but because it’s too good. I’d already considered that as the wisest course of action, and yet I’ve been scared to move forward with it.
“We’re having dinner here tonight in the communal area,” Bebe says as she heads back to the staircase, glancing once over her shoulder. “Look forward to meeting Thea and your mom.”
“Thank you, Bebe. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
She smiles. “I only want what’s best for Dozer, and I believe that’s you. You just need to believe it too.”