“Nah, that seems like letting them win.”
“You know what’s letting them win?” Raelyn insists. “Rotting in bed all week feeling sorry for yourself.”
“Okay, okay. I’m getting up now,Mom.” I toss the covers aside, sending a couple of stray Cheetos flying. The empty bag lies crumpled in a pile on the floor beside a half-eaten carton of lemon Oreos. I supposed itwouldbe nice to have a real meal. I’ve been living on junk food and bad reality TV since I burrowed in Monday night.
“You could ask Thatcher if he wants to do something,” Raelyn suggests.
“Don’t push your luck,” I warn her. “Besides, he’s at work.”
“He’s off today.”
“Why?”
“Because he doesn’t work Saturdays?”
“It’s Saturday?” I ask, my heart dropping into my toes. If it’s Saturday, that means it’s Valentine’s Day. The urge to crawl back under the covers and hide away from the world for one more day is strong. Why couldn’t Raelyn have left me wallow until this stupid day of love passed?
“It’s just an ordinary Saturday,” Raelyn says, but her chipper voice cracks. It’s bullshit and we both know it. But she presses on anyway. “Just head into town, maybe do some shopping, and get something to eat that actually has nutritional value. Please?”
“I’ll shower,” I agree, kicking at an empty can of Pringles. “But I’m not making any promises past that. Today was supposed to be special…” I let my sentence taper off, as my stomach twists into a knot. Spencer and I had an impossible to get reservation at Orion. It was only time I’ve ever been able to convince him the meal was worth the high-ticket price. It feels like such a blow on the other side of this whole disaster. I wonder if he’ll take his mother instead. “You know, this whole thing would be easier if he’d cheated on me.”
“Let’s look at the bright side. You came to your sensesbeforeyou married him. That’s what counts, right?”
Someday, I’ll appreciate that fact more. But today is not that day. “Do you need me to send proof that I showered?” I ask, hoping to lighten the mood and shift the subject away from Spencer and the life I thought I was going to have.
“Nah, save the shower selfies for another time. I’ll have Thatcher verify you don’t smell like the bottom of a dumpster.”
For the first time in days, I crack a smile. Hell, Ialmostlaugh. But the second the call ends, I crawl right back into bed with a renewed determination to hibernate untilafterValentine’s Day has passed.
CHAPTER 2
Thatcher
Iknock on the guest room door, still irritated as hell that my sister is making me do this. I hate Valentine’s Day. I’ve hated it since I was twelve, when the girl I had the biggest crush on stomped on my heart.
That girl is now the woman hibernating in my parents’ guest room.
Though I’m secretly thrilled Blaire called off her wedding on account of hating the asshole she was with, I wouldn’t wish the heartbreak she’s going through on my worst enemy. I’ve kept her stocked in snacks, but otherwise, I’ve given her a wide berth of space.
But Raelyn chose today of all fucking days to call in a long-owed favor I believed, until ten minutes ago, that she’d forgotten all about.
I should’ve known better. My sister reminded me in agonizing detail how she made a round trip drive to Anchorage to pick our parents up from the airport three years ago because I was still drunk from the night before. In my defense, I’d broken things off with a woman I thought I might possibly marry. I never popped the question, but she expected me to. And instead of giving her a ring, I broke up with her. Which, of course,devastated her. She was almost as blindsided by the breakup as I was.
Though I don’t regret breaking things off, I felt like such an asshole that I drank myself blind that night.
“I had to take off work,” Raelyn reminded me. “And I still covered for your ass. Told our parents you got a stomach bug. You owe me, Thatcher.”
I relented in minutes, which is why I knock on Blaire’s door a second time.
“I’ve showered,” she groans. “Please tell your sister that I smell like a bouquet of wildflowers and leave me alone.”
“I haven’t heard the water running,” I counter.
The other reason Raelyn was so easily able to twist my arm into this whole Cupid’s Crawl thing is because I’m genuinely concerned about Blaire. I’m the first one to isolate and go quiet when I’m overloaded. But six days is extreme, even for a recluse like me. She’s hardly left her room since she arrived. She needs to get out, even if it’s just for lunch. And since my sister is three time zones away, the only one who can make that happen is me.
Even if it’s fucking Valentine’s Day.
“Go. Away.”
