After I hit send, I reread the text, grimacing.Why did I say such morbid things?This man knocks me all off my game.
Not that I had any to begin with if I’m being truthful.
Ashton Prewitt:Block out a lot of time. We’ve got much to discuss.
My heart thumps in my chest.
Me:Is that a good thing or a bad thing?
Ashton Prewitt:Great things about the book. You’re a phenomenal author. See you tomorrow.
A thrill runs down my spine, and I allow myself to bask in the warm glow of the feeling for all of one minute before I tamper it down, locking it up inside a vault labeledLITERARY AGENT AND NOTHING MORE.
I wanted to throw caution to the wind on my birthday, but afterward, I thought about it. I need to focus on my career, and trying to date my literary agent would be a huge mistake. Ashton Prewitt is off-limits.
And his slightly flirty personality is just that. A personality. He’s also stood on business in our conversations. I’m mistaking kindness for flirtiness, a mistake many women have made. I can’t fall prey to that, so I will toss away my romantic notions.
Though it’s safe to admit I’ve developed a teeny tiny crush on this man.
Okay.Fine. A little more than teeny tiny.
Gosh, I’m feeling the whole early-twenties thing at this moment. I’m now twenty-seven, but I feel like a teenager with a massive high school crush on the popular guy. Or the way I felt when I pined after Lane. He was one of the coolest guys on campus, and I dreamt of meet-cutes between us every time I’d see him out and about.
But then our meet-cute actually happened when we were placed in a partnership for our U.S. History class. And the rest, is, in fact, a scar-filled history as he made cut after cut to my core beliefs about love.
And that’s when it hits me, the reason I think I was going to marry Bryan. Lane made it clear to me that true, passionate romance doesn’t exist in real life. That real men don’t have the emotional capacity to meet a woman where she is, not like men written by women.
Lane led me to believe I’m meant for the Bryans of the world. The safe choices. The passive choices. And I guess I believed him because I was going to marry Bryan.
Do I still believe that? Is that why I’m hesitant to date anyone and end up talking myself out of any possibility of a romantic relationship?
A knock on my camper shakes me from my thoughts.
I open the door. “Hey, Mom. Want something to drink?”
Mom takes a few steps and plops down on my couch with an exhausted sigh. She runs her hands through her short and thin honey-color hair, the same color as mine. “Yes, please. Coffee would be appreciated.”
I set to work starting the old, gurgling pot. “Are you okay?’
“Your brother drives me mad sometimes.” I turn to look at Mom, and she’s laid up, massaging her temples. “I think he does things just to get a reaction from me.”
This is going to be interesting.
“Well, what’d he do?”
“Bought a new truck. Again. His third one this year!”
Yikes. Even I think that’s excessive. But my brother has always appreciated deals and new, shiny things. “Mom. We’ve talked about this. It’s his life. As long as he’s not asking you for money, there’s not much you can do.”
Mom groans, throwing her hands in the air before they slap down to her lap. “I know, Esme. But it still bothers me that he is so careless with his money at times. And Sam! I can’t imagine how she feels about it.”
She probably encouraged it,I think to myself, but I don’t share that with Mom. Not while she’s letting off steam.
Mom has always been my best friend despite our differences. She has given up her whole life to raise me and Ethan while being the best wife she could be to Dad. So, I’m her person. Idon’t mind it at all; I love her and will always be a listening ear for her.
“He can afford it, so we might as well let him. I know Sam doesn’t mind.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Mom says, shaking her head and crossing one leg over the other. “Sam has always understood his mind in a way I can’t for some reason.”
