Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Flip’s gray eyes bore into me. “Let me get this straight. You flew to New York. And you’re spending the weekend with my brother-in-law?”
“Correct.”
“So this is more”—he stops to sketch air quotes—“a little harmless fun?” he asks as he quotes me back to me. “A weekend with bennies?”
Actually, it’s not that at all. Not for me.
I wish I could tell him what it is. “I’m not sure what this is. The only thing I know is that I don’t want to end things with him,” I say, and I’m pretty sure I’ve shocked my best friend senseless.
Flip blows out a long stream of air. Takes a weighty beat. “Wow. Gotta say, I didn’t see that coming.”
I chuckle. “That makes two of us.”
Flip strokes his chin, eyeing me. “So, you and Mark Banks. I guess stranger things have happened, but not by much.”
“I know, but somehow it just kind of works," I say, and I haven’t entirely figured out why. I just know that it does. We fit.
Flip shrugs, holds out his hands to show he’s got nothing. “I can’t even give you a hard time. Or a you better be careful line.”
“Lucky me. I dodged a bullet,” I joke.
But his eyes turn serious, and I half expect he’s going to issue some kind of growly if you break my wife’s brother’s heart, you’re dead to me warning. “So, should I be worried about your heart getting broken now?”
Words I never expected to hear from Flip. But the last few months have been unexpected.
“Maybe,” I say, without any pretense.
“I have no idea who you are and what you did with my best friend. But I’ll say this—you better not back out of our hang gliding plans for next summer.”
“Flip, come on. I’m the one going hang gliding. You’re going to watch since you’re the guy with a kid on the way and a low tolerance for risk.”
He stares at me. "You do know your boyfriend has a kid. That means⏤”
I wag my finger back and forth. “No one’s using the boyfriend word yet.”
Emphasis on yet.
45
BETTER THAN TACOS
MARK
“Hannah, hey.” I smile at my sister and try to look casual. But it’s possible I have crazy eyes and mussed hair.
My poker face is gone forever, I think. It met its match in the form of Asher St. James.
“Hey to you,” my sister says, giving me a funny smile. “Did you read my text?”
“No. Why?” I pull my phone out of my pocket and tap on her name.
That message I didn’t want to read about Asher? It says:
Hannah: Mark, before you get here, you should know that Asher is here, and he is watching the door like a lonely dog at the end of the day. I wasn’t supposed to say anything, but please show up and put him out of his misery.
I laugh out loud. “You’re hilarious.”
“Can I assume from the beard-burn on your face that you two got reacquainted?”
“Yeah.” My laugh turns embarrassed. “About that . . . We’re, uh, leaving. Sorry to take off. But he’s going to spend the weekend so . . .” I feel my face burn bright red.
Hannah doubles over laughing. “This is great. I’m going to tease you about this for years. Remember when Flip turned thirty and you spent five minutes at his party and then left to have sex?”
“We’ll probably go out to dinner first,” I sputter.
She laughs harder.
“Weekends are short, and then he’ll go back to France.” I clear my throat and try to clear my head. “This is our only chance.”
“I see how it is.” She gives me a little shove toward the door. “Go on. You know you want to.”
“Thanks.” My face is still aflame. But it’s totally worth it. I lean in and kiss her cheek. “Love you.”
“Love you too, Marky Mark. Now scram.”
I don’t make her say it again. With a wave and a smile, I head for the door. On my way I spot Asher, standing beside Flip, the two of them lost in conversation. So I head outside alone to wait for him on the street.
Because, unfortunately, there’s someone else I need to talk to.
Bridget answers on the second ring. “Talk fast because I’m frosting cupcakes.”
“About that,” I say slowly. “I’m sorry, Bridge, but I can’t do T-ball tomorrow.” I could do it. But I don’t want to leave Asher in my bed at seven-thirty in the morning to handle something that’s Bridget’s problem. Not this time. Not when I have less than forty-eight hours with him.
“Mark! I’m literally frosting the cupcakes.”
I take a deep, slow breath so I don’t explode. “Look. Earlier I said I could do it. I was wrong. You can find a way. Ask Valencia. Ask Morgan. There’s a friend in town that I never get to see, and I’m going to do that. I’m going to live my damn life.”