My contacts list opens with the press of a finger. I hover over Sienna’s name.
“I shouldn’t do this,” I tell myself as I contemplate doing it anyway. “Ugh.”
My head falls back against the pillows as I war with what to do.
The first step in this ridiculous process is admitting outright that I like Holt.Check.
The next step is figuring out if I can, and if I should, pursue it.Not check.
I groan, holding my phone in front of my face. I don’t want to ask for help with this. It’s stupid. Women are supposed to know how to do these things and, besides, I’m certain that not sharing my business with others is the way to go.
But still …
I want to talk to Sienna. I’m partially embarrassed by this little fact and fight the urge to hide beneath the covers. Regardless, the idea of hearing her take on what’s happening with Holt and me and hearing her opinion seems helpful.
And maybe even fun.
“Who am I these days?”
I give in and scroll to her name in my text app.
Me: I need your help.
It takes a whole three seconds for my phone to ring. When I answer, I’m laughing.
“Were you just sitting around waiting on my call?” I ask.
“Would it be weird to say yes?”
“It would absolutely be weird.”
She laughs too. “Then no. I wasn’t. I was sitting in Crank watching Walker fix a tractor through the window and hoping that a friend who’s sleeping with a super-hot millionaire would call me for advice. Better?”
“Not really.”
“Figures. So, what’s up?”
I chew on my nail. Because if I’m completely reinventing myself on this trip, why not add being a nail-biter to it?
“Sienna …” I take a deep, shaky breath. “I like Holt.”
“I know.”
I scramble to a more upright position in the bed. “No, I mean, I really think I like him. I think I’m in trouble.”
“You aren’t in trouble. You’re in love.”
“What? I am not.”
I slow blink at her loose use of the l-word.
The only man I’ve ever told I loved was Jack, and I’m not sure I ever really loved him. I think we were both struggling to make it in college, and we leaned on each other. It became a co-dependent relationship. I relied on him for my identity and for approval, not for love.
Certainly not for love.
“Blaire, calm down,” Sienna says gently. “I can feel you spiraling from here.”
“I am not.”
