“Garrett’s gift, the race swag bag, and Wannabee Kerouac’s flowers.”
Miles.I forgot about him. It seems ages since the start line to here.
“Where is Miles?” I tilt my head.
“Not sure. He was with us at the finish line when you crossed and then suddenly said something came up, tossed Anker the flowers, and left,” Kayla shrugs.
It appearssomeonemay have seen what happened between Garrett and me. The tiniest bit of guilt nips at me. I’m on a romantic sabbatical. That’s what I told Miles. Those are—were—my intentions. My confusion aside, it’s clear Miles’s goal today is romantic, and not just friendly, despite his claim. Even though I know Miles isn’t who I want, I feel bad hurting him.
“That’s a shame,” Garrett says, his tone sarcastic and snide.
“It is. He offered to pay for everyone’s breakfast,” Kayla says with an audible pout.
“I’ll pay.”
“No, Garrett. You’re not paying.” I shake my head.
“Agreed. It’s my treat. This breakfast is to celebrate both of you,” Anker says.
“When you say ‘my treat…” Kayla coos.
“For a woman in Chanel, you never pick up a check,” Catherine teases.
“How do you think I afford Chanel on a professor’s salary?”
“Naturally, I’m buying for our champions and their groupies.” Anker laughs, unfolding my cane and handing it to me. “Your chariot.”
“We prefer entourage,” Kayla quips.
“Not to mention calling cheering women groupies is sexist.” A cheeky grin plays in Catherine’s tut.
“I’ll atone for my casual sexism with bottomless mimosas.”
“Mimosas will have to wait. Today is all about the lattes. It’s a special occasion after all, so we’re drinking Jensen’s favorite to celebrate.” Catherine bumps my hip with hers. “But only two. Doctor’s orders… Right, Garrett?”
The sassiness in Catherine’s lilt makes me wonder if my brother’s head didn’t obstruct as much of her view as she claims.
He clears his throat. “Jensen can have anything she wants.”
Does anything I want include you?I bite back that question. It’s not just the idea of doing this in front of everyone, so much as the fear of his answer holding me back.I’m not ready for a girlfriend, especially you. I’m with someone else, but if I wasn’t, it would never work. I want a girlfriend, not a project to take care of.
Memories of the past times I asked for what I wanted from men hiss inside me.
“I’m sure she can haveanythingshe wants.” Catherine’s retort is pointed.
Yup, she saw. Arching one eyebrow, I look between my friend and Garrett.
As we walk to the café, my mind wanders to this week’s session with Dr. Nor, the memory drowning out the chatter around me.Do you think the men you’ve picked may reinforce the narrative that you’re not wanted? Dr. Nor’s words play on repeat inside me.
Is my crush on Garrett this? I’d asked that very question to Dr. Nor. Her answer?Maybe, or maybe it’s more. Only you can determine if your feelings for Garrett are real or not.
Stupid therapist and her cryptic answers. For the thirty-dollar copay, it sure would be nice if she just told me what to do instead of leaving it up to me to figure things out.
“Which latte do you want?” Anker taps my upper arm.
“What?” Blinking, I look up at him and then toward our server, who stands, tablet in hand, punching in our drink orders.
“They have a red velvet cupcake one for Valentine’s,” Garrett says, his low timbre quiet. “I know you like the special seasonal ones.”
