“It’s the peace of mind it gives you—” I started to explain.
She cut me off with a knowing grin. “See? There’s no way you’re renting a car to drive to some random mountain town for some random wedding—or whatever they’re calling it.”
My stomach sank.
Wow.I wanted to deny it, but the truth was—it hadn’t even occurred to me to say yes.
Robin was right.
I didn’t do spontaneous.
I didn’t do risky.
And to be honest, I was still reeling from my dependable, sensible, I-thought-just-as-risk-averse best friend suddenly announcing she was in a polyamorous relationship with three guys.
Even Holly had taken a leap.
Even Holly had found joy outside the lines of her productivity app—which, for the record, was the same as mine. I seriously couldn’t stop recommending thetime.lyticapp to everyone I knew. Even Mr. Good Time…
I stared at my phone and tried not to remember the pitying look in his dark eyes as he said,
“Sweetiebird, you know we work good in bed. But we’re not a match outside of it. You and me want different things from a relationship, and like I told you from the start—I’m only in Vancouver for a good time, not a long time. And I’m definitely not looking to leave any kids behind.”
I wish I’d nodded. Smiled. Let him go with dignity.
My pride would have loved that version of the story.
But instead, I’d had a full-on autie meltdown. Begged him to help me. Sobbed. Screamed. I even tried to grab his arm when he shouldered his duffel and started to leave.
And he just shook me off.
That was how I came to find out—in the most humiliating way possible—that Mr. Good Time did not share my delusion. Like, at all.
Robin was right. Even my Dom-sub relationship had been neatly filed under “spontaneous free time” in my time-block productivity app. Right between “meal prep” and “grading homework.”
I’d never taken a real chance in my life.
And I was so tired of sticking to plans that never worked out.
“You know what?”
I straightened in my seat.
“I am going to that wedding—Joining Ceremony, whatever.”
I picked up my phone to RSVP.
But before I could hit send, Acorn stirred.
A tentative little whimper at first. Then the kind of full-body baby outrage that only comes from the cruel injustice of being placed in a bassinet for eight entire minutes.
“I don’t know why she’s refusing to go down. I just fed her….” Robin started to sit up, rubbing her eyes.
But I jumped to my feet, happy to be of some use as opposed to secretly seething with heavily masked jealousy.
“I’ve got her.”
“You sure?”
