Me:Are you at home? Need to send you an important file immediately.
Ansel:Yeah, sure.
"Can you email me the file?" I ask Bridget.
She frowns, examining her phone. "It's a pretty big sound file. I don't know if it'll go through." There's a slight growl, making her flinch as she clutches her stomach.
"Oh, baby, you haven't even had dinner yet, have you?"
"No, but that can wait."
"No way." Looking down at our phones, I try to think of the most efficient thing to do. "I really want to get that file to Ansel, so that he can compress it and get it emailed to our lawyer."
"Here, take it." Bridget hands me her phone. "The password is seven-seven-seven-nine."
I hold the phone to my heart. "This means a lot that you'd trust me, baby. I just got a bunch of groceries. Can you make yourself a sandwich or something?"
"Sure. Thanks."
Jumping to my feet, I kiss the top of her head and rush out the door. I'm halfway to Ansel's when I realize I made a terrible mistake.
I forgot to tell Bridget that I'm already in love with her.
All of this ridiculous family drama has me scattered, but that's no excuse. I'm going to have to learn how to behave properly in a relationship. How to share my feelings, always.
And how to tell my sweet girl that I am already positive that she's the one.
10
BRIDGET
Wow. Dash has just left me alone in his house, with his phone on the table. I was totally fine with giving him my phone, no question. Now that I've told him my one big secret, my life is an open book. But he's older, more established. Not that I would ever poke around, but it still feels amazing that he trusts me so much.
Before I stumbled upon Lloyd and his cronies, I was sure that breaking up with Dash was the right thing to do. Yet from the way he behaves, it feels like he wants us to be permanent. Or maybe the full awfulness of my family history hasn't really hit him yet.
That's way too much to think about on an empty stomach.
After putting away the groceries in the most logical places, I make myself a sandwich with a side of carrot sticks. I eat in the living room while watching part of a documentary about the history of whiskey making.
They start going on about the importance of the charred oak barrels that it was aged in. Could wood from the Oakley forest be good for that as well? They go through so much of it Ican't imagine barrel makers would pay a fortune, but it's worth looking into.
I hit pause, and automatically grab my phone to take a note. I laugh as I look down at the unfamiliar screen, realizing that it's Dash's phone on the table, not mine. In the process of setting it back down, my thumb hits the surface just as a video call comes in.
Oh, crap.
I can't just hang up on someone. Lifting the phone to eye level, it registers that the name I had seen for a split second was "Mom".
"Hello?"
"Hello." The caller looks at me curiously. "You're certainly not Dash."
I smile, lifting the phone and my chin to create what I hope is a flattering angle. "Hi, I'm Bridget. I'm sorry, Dash isn't here right now. I answered his phone by mistake. May I please take a message, Mrs. Oakley?"
"Just call me Carol." Her eyes are kind but also analytical as she scans my face. "He's mentioned you, Bridget."
My cheeks are already burning. "Really?"
Her smile is polite, but there might be a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Yes."
