“One date, and your eyes are suddenly sparkling at the mention of it,” she says with an arched brow. “What’s hisname?”
“Jackson,” I tellher.
“See, there it is again, anothersparkle.”
“Stop it,” Ilaugh.
“What doesJacksondo for a living?” She scoots forward and brings her leg up underneath her on the chair, elevating her height a fewinches.
“He’s a doctor at Mass General—acardiologist.”
Chelsea places her hand on her chest and jerks her head back. “Well, excuse me. Yeah, I guess it would be safe to say buh-bye to Mikenow.”
“I’m sort of going out with him again tonight,” I tellher.
“And you're getting married tomorrow?” she continues, a grin now plastered across herface.
“Possibly, and maybe I’ll have his baby onFriday.”
“Be careful, okay, Emma? You’re so used to feeling hurt that I don't want you to fall into another mistake. You deserve more than what you’ve had.” She places her hand on top of mine. “Take yourtime.”
“I appreciate your concern, but I promise you, this time, it’s about me. I’m suddenly hyperaware of how fast life goes by, and I’ve been so busy watching it pass me by that I’m ready to go all in and experience what I’ve beenmissing.”
“Ah, you want good lovin’. Now you're speaking my language,” she says, poking my nose with her finger. “You go get your happy on, girl. You deserveit.”
My cheeks burn at the thought. I’ve been trying to calm my pulse from our kiss, never mind what comes after that. “You’re so sweet…and romantic,” Ijest.
“You know, I’ve heard that sex releases a chemical that makes you more creative. Maybe it can even help you with your workstuff.”
I lift my cup to my lips, hoping it’s cooled down enough as I take the first sip. With a mouthful of the steamy brew, I narrow my eyes at Chelsea. “You know, you should be a therapist. I don’t know what you're doing pouring coffee all day. You just—you give the best advice anyone has ever givenme.”
“It's funny you say that. Three other people said the same thing to me this week.”That’s Chelsea. I love this girl. Everyone needs a Chelsea in their life. She looks over at a line growing in front of the counter and purses her lips. “I think my break isover.”
“I have to get my work done anyway. Thanks for listening to me,” Ioffer.
“Anytime, but next time, don't forget your co-pay,” she says, leaving me with a wink and an airkiss.
“You got it, Dr.Chelsea.”
Am I rushing things, or am I just living for once? Is there a difference? If so, why don’t I know what it is at thirty-one? I don't know who made these stupid rules that people live by, but everything inside of me wants to see Jackson tonight, and I’m not going to sit around and grieve my six-year relationship for a month just so I can say I’m officially over him. It’s not just Mike I need to be over. I’m over living solely for someone else’s wants and needs. This time, it’s forme.
For the firsttime all week, I get through several projects over the course of three hours, and my phone doesn't ring once. It’s like a small miracle. I respond to the six emails waiting for me with questions about upcoming projects and look down at my phone to see I still have a couple of hours before I need to get to Mom’s, shower, and ready fortonight.
My bag stares at me from across the table, and the addiction I’m feeling to Grams’s story is like a good book I can't put down, except this is real. It pulls at my heartstrings, and though I feel like I owe my heart a rest, there’s no way I can stopnow.
