“Or maybe I’d die trying. Men like Everett Donnelly can’t be tamed. He loves his life too much to be tied down with one woman. He’s…a free spirit, and probably always will be.”
“What about Lincoln Storm?”
“What about him?”
“He was just as bad as Donnelly. But now he’s settled down with Donnelly’s little sister.”
“You’re living in a fantasy land, Si. There isn’t going to be anything more between us than what we had last night. That shit only happens in romance novels and movies.”
“Well, a girl can dream. I can just see it: you go to another game, he sees you in the crowd, and he can’t take his eyes off you. He scores a goal and dedicates it to you, and then after the game, he searches you out and confesses that he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you, and he changes his ways just for you.”
“Did you hit your head or something?” I ask.
She shrugs one shoulder. “It’s got to happen. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be books and movies.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “It’s all fake. The guys don’t do anything gross in those, and they’re always perfect. That isn’t real life, and you know it.”
She huffs in annoyance. “I know,” she admits sadly. “It’s a fantasy. I know we haven’t found them yet, but I like to think there are men out there just waiting to sweep us off our feet.”
“There’s no fucking way I’m waiting for a man. He’ll be late, get distracted, or take a wrong turn. I’m fine as I am. Men only complicate our lives. We don’t need them.”
“You’re right. They are fun, though,” she muses.
7
BEATRICE
Isit at my desk at the salon, staring at my accounting software, attempting to reconcile our recent transactions, but I can’t focus on anything. The screen is a blur.
Everything is a blur.
It’s been three weeks since Sienna’s birthday, and as far as everyone knows, everything is great.
Our hangovers faded, and we returned to normal life.
We were all at the salon first thing on Tuesday morning to start a new work week. We’re almost fully booked with people wanting to be summer-ready, keeping all of us busy with jobs we love. Only, while the others are focused and enjoying time with their clients, my life is starting to spin out of control.
Things were already hanging on by a thread after some questionable decisions I made a few months ago. But they’ve potentially taken an even worse turn.
I…
Fuck. I can’t even think it.
I slump back in my seat and close my eyes.
The relief is brief, because no sooner am I plunged into darkness than my thoughts return.
My ability to ignore the inevitable is becoming increasingly difficult.
A week ago, I was living in complete denial. But as the days pass, the harder it is to convince myself that everything is okay.
“Fuck,” I bark before opening my eyes, slamming my laptop closed and shoving the chair out behind me.
I can’t do this any longer.
I can’t sit here pretending that everything is okay. That my already fragile life isn’t being thrown headfirst into another fucking disaster.
This shouldn’t be happening.
