“You want to send it to a publisher?”
“No, I’ll publish independently. I’ve been looking into it, and I think it’s doable. I just need an editor, and—”
“You sure you want to do that, Bri?” Scott’s face twisted in a sort of disgust, regarding me as if I’d lost my mind. “I’m sure there’s a lot more entailed, and you’d open yourself up to all kinds of scrutiny.”
“Why, because it’s most likely crap?” My jaw clenched as I rested my elbows on the table.
Scott reached across the table and rubbed my forearm. “No, I didn’t say that. But you’re a beginner, and I’m sure it’s a tough thing to get into. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
I grabbed a piece of bread and tore off the crust like I wanted to tear off Scott’s head.
“When you started this company, I did nothing but support you. Even now, although it means being in a relationship with myself lately.”
His mouth flattened to a hard line as he leaned back in his chair. “That’s not fair, Brianna. I told you if I did this, it would be a lot of long hours and work to get this going—”
“Right.” I crossed my arms and leaned over the table. “But it’s your dream, what you want. I’d never belittle it or make you feel it’s a waste of time.”
“I never said it was a waste of time, Bri. I just said it’s probably not as simple as you think. My company and you publishing a book isn’t a fair comparison. It’s not a sure thing; you can’t depend on that for a living.”
I blinked back angry tears. Writing a novel, to me, was one of those aspirational, but non-attainable, items you see catalogued on bucket lists. Tasks a person would name along with climbing Everest or hitting the lotto. Regardless if it was two hundred pages of garbage or not, it was an accomplishment I was proud of. I would’ve thought—or hoped—for a nod of recognition, or a “Hey, that’s pretty cool” from my boyfriend.
“But your companyisa sure thing? And that is worth the time, but my silly little book isn’t. A dream is a dream.” My nostrils flared as I gripped the edge of the red tablecloth. “Know what? I’m not feeling so well. I’ll get a cab home.”
“Stop!” Scott pulled my arm as I rose from my seat and took my hand in both of his. “I’m sorry. You’re right. A dream is a dream, and if you want to do it, I’m behind you one-hundred percent, babe. Don’t go, please.”
My anger dissipated as my eyes met Scott’s pleading baby blues. I plopped back into my seat and picked up my menu.
“I love you,” he whispered. “I always wanted to sleep with an author. That’s my other dream I haven’t told you about.” He gave me a cheeky grin.
A laugh escaped as I tried to hold the scowl on my face. “Very funny. You’re more than welcome to read it.”
Scott laughed. “I doubt I’d have any useful input. But hey, go for it. I think it’s great.” He patted the back of my wrist. His gesture of support seemed a lot like a dismissal.
I said nothing in reply as I swished my wine around in the glass. I hated that his reaction spread a dark Eeyore cloud over the excitement I’d had. This was why I was so hesitant to tell a second person about the book. I had little doubt I’d get that kind of reaction almost every time.
Josh asked to read it and pushed me to get it out there, even though the very thought terrified me, same as he insisted I could learn how to ride a bike.
My best friend was much different than my boyfriend. As Scott rambled on, I tried to block out the intrusive wish that my boyfriend and best friend were the same person.
Josh
“ARE YOU ALLright?” Brianna squeezed my shoulder as we pulled up in front of her house.
I put my truck in park and let my eyes wander to my old house up the street. Whoever had it now at least cared about it enough to water the lawn. It was green instead of brown, the complete opposite of our accidental tumbleweed theme.
“Yeah, I’m good. Just . . . weird to be back, you know?” I shrugged and let out a long sigh.
She gave me a sad smile and rested her head on my shoulder.
“You’re with people who care about you and are glad you’re back. There’s no need to feel like you’re trespassing in a neighborhood where you aren’t wanted. Shake it off, Falco.” She lifted her head and nudged my shoulder.
“You sure your dad won’t throw me out of the house?” I chuckled. “He wasn’t too happy with me the last time I saw him.”
“No, he won’t.” Her smile faded as she narrowed her eyes. “I’d never let him do that then—or now. You’re my best friend and I love you, so man up and get out of the truck.” The corners of her mouth twitched.
God, I loved this girl. All the time we were spending together lately was making it damn near impossible to keep holding it in.
I picked up her hand and pressed a loud kiss to the inside of her wrist before I put it down. I held in a smile at the almost inaudible gasp that escaped her. She felt it, too; I knew she did. We were so much more than friends, but I respected the fact she was with someone else now—someone who didn’t appreciate or deserve her. But that was none of my business, even if it made my blood boil if I thought about it for more than two minutes.
