Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“You know what made it go away,” I said quietly. And I knew that it wounded his pride to hear me even imply it, but he had to know that it was true.
“Yeah. I know.” He leaned forward, his hands on his knees. “Look, I’m tired. I’m gonna go—”
“You don’t want to hear it, but you deserve better than Catherine.” I couldn’t let him mope off to bed thinking I didn’t understand, because I did. “You loved Lauren. And she fucked you over. And then you fell for Catherine, and she did the same thing. But I promise you, it’s possible to love someone that hard and have them love you back.”
“Well, those types of women are thin on the ground, I guess,” he grumbled, getting to his feet.
“Yeah. They are. So are guys like that. How many times have I been engaged?”
His jaw visibly tightened. “Way too many.”
“And how many times was my world entirely shattered when those relationships ended?” It was purely rhetorical; he knew exactly how big a mess I’d been after every single one of my breakups.
“And what happened when I swore off ever looking for love, ever again?” I challenged him.
He looked me straight in the fucking face and said, “You got mauled by a bear.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. And that’s what he’d been aiming for, because if I laughed, it would destroy my pep talk.
“You’re such a dick.” I threw my hands up. “Fine. Yes. I got mauled by a bear. But I also found true love.”
“Gross.”
“Yeah, well, suck it up. Because it’s true god damn love with Charlotte. I promise, it’s going to happen for you when you least expect it.”
And hopefully, not with my sister.
* * * *
Scott and I played until we couldn’t keep our eyes open and decided to sleep much earlier than we would have twenty years before.
“Remember when we could stay up twenty-four hours in a row?” I yawned and stretched my arms to get some blood flow back into them. They’d been in roughly the same position, clutching a controller, for much longer than I was used to.
“I think if someone were to offer me a million dollars to stay awake that long, I still wouldn’t be able to do it,” he said grimly.
That was an interesting thing I often heard people say. “For a million dollars,” or “If someone offered me a million dollars.” Like that was some astronomical amount of money. I supposed it wouldn’t be such a popular point of reference for people if it wasn’t a lot.
That thought weighed on me as I trudged my way up to bed. I’d already known that Charlotte and I were from vastly different economic backgrounds, and I understood the gravity of “one percent” to describe rich people. But what about comfortable people? Was it possible to be “comfortable” with less than a million dollars in the bank?
When I found Charlotte still awake, scrolling social media, I almost questioned her about the financial situations of the people she knew. Luckily, I had the good sense not to bring up a touchy subject. Even among the ultra-wealthy, exact figures were volunteered—and in many cases, rounded up substantially—but never asked about outright.
It would be rude.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, pulling my t-shirt over my head. I’d bounced back from the food poisoning quicker than she had.
“So much better. But my sleep schedule is all messed up.” She’d spent the day after the accidental poisoning completely passed out, waking only for frantic dashes to the bathroom. “And my muscles are all still pulled.”
“What did Doctor Frankel say today?” I hadn’t been home when he’d made his visit to Charlotte and Holly. I’d shown Bill around town, Scott in tow. And by “shown around,” I meant I had looked at a guidebook guiltily two hours before we left for historical sites I’d never visited before.
“That we’re fine. We’re recovering. Not everyone gets back on their feet twenty-four hours later, like some lucky bastards can. Electrolytes, rice and oatmeal, the whole thing.” She bit her bottom lip. “I think your chef is getting bored with us.”
“I pay him enough that he can be bored.” I kicked my jeans aside and climbed into bed with her.
When she snuggled down beside me and leaned her head on my shoulder, it felt right in a way that affirmed the universe in my soul.
This was what Scott wanted. It’s what he deserved. And for some reason, it’s what he wanted with Catherine.
“I think I’m going to talk to my sister. About Scott.”
Charlotte pushed herself up. “I think that’s a terrible idea.”
“What? Why?”
“Because it’s meddling. Meddling never works,” she warned.
“Your brother meddled. Look at us now,” I pointed out.
“But I’m not your sister. I’m not anything like her.”
“It would be weird if you were.”
She took a deep, long-suffering breath. “So, you go talk to her. You, what, convince her to leave her rich husband for my middle-class brother and then what? She ends up breaking Scott’s heart all over again when she can’t stomach living in a world where she has to load the dishwasher by herself.”