I chew on my bottom lip.
“What’s the worst that could happen?” Sienna asks.
“That he laughs in my face.”
“Do you really think he’d do that?”
“I hope not.”
She sighs. “You know that’s not going to happen. Take that option off the table.”
I shrug. “I guess he could just tell me I’ve seen something between us that he didn’t, and I should just go home.”
“Do you think that’s true?”
I don’t. I really don’t.
Even with my overthinking brain and paranoia, I don’t think I’m seeing something that’s not there.
His touch is too tender. His actions too considerate. His kisses too sweet.
“I’m confident that he feels the same way that I do,” I say. “There’s just too much evidence to support it.”
“We aren’t in a courtroom.” She laughs. “But go on.”
I twist my lips into a thin line as I think this through.
“He asked me to brunch this morning with his family at his parents' house,” I say. “And I got to know his family last night at the concert.”
“Oh, my gosh! You went to Kelvin McCoy, didn’t you? Did you see Beau McCrae too?”
I laugh. “No, we missed Beau. But we did see Kelvin … who is Holt’s brother? Did you know that?”
“Um, yeah. Everyone in Savannah knows that.”
“Well, I didn’t. Imagine my surprise when I’d gone on and on about him to Holt. I was so embarrassed.”
Sienna giggles. “That’s hilarious.”
I sit up in bed again and feel the sunlight on my shoulders. It warms the air and makes it possible to consider climbing out of bed.
“You need to lay your cards out with Holt,” Sienna says. “You can’t come back here and not know where things stand. And I think—and you do, too, that he probably feels the same way.”
I close my eyes and fight the urge to put my feelings into the universe. It’s too risky.
“You guys can take it slow,” Sienna says. “It’s not like either of you are looking to get married next month or something.”
“True ...”
Her voice softens. “Just believe in yourself and the possibility of love. I believe in you.”
“You know what?” I get out of bed. “This whole being friends thing was working out pretty well. But now you’re acting like we’re in a sappy movie, and I’m rethinking my decision to call you about this stuff.”
She laughs. “You love me.”
“Stop with the l-word. Geesh.”
Her laughter grows louder. Eventually, mine mixes with it.
