“Jackie—”
“Girl code! You can’t make me tell you. I will not break the girl code!” She pouts, crossing her arms.
I’m gobsmacked, mouth hanging open. I’ve never seen Jackie so protective. I love it because it’s for Eliza. But the undertone of her comment has the same effect as swallowing a fistful of nails.
“Is she seeing somebody?”
Jackie avoids looking at me.
“J,” I growl.
“I love you, but you won’t make me a bad friend,” she says, admiring the tips of her shoes. “But she saw the pictures with Alicia,” she drawls reproachfully. “That I can tell you.”
Cold sweat prickles the back of my head and I’m stunned speechless until the door to the terrace slides open.
“You two are to blame,” I tell Jackie and my mother, half joking. “I could have gone to a luxury rehabilitation center.”
“You’re young, honey.” My mother saunters in and sits next to me. “Don’t pretend your life ended with Laura. Or that you’re supposed to take care of us. We’re big girls.”
“It makes me feel in control.”
“Are you really in control of your life? Or are you keeping yourself lonely?” My mother cups my cheek the same way she did when I was little. “Try something new, give yourself the chance to build a dream from scratch even if it fails. Regret will be worse when it’s too late to take that risk.”
For someone trained to spot any vulnerability, I missed the biggest hidden risk of getting to know Eliza. The risk of not leaving as the same man who walked in that first night. The risk of finding out what love tastes like directly from her lips.
I tiptoed around the feeling, not recognizing it.
“I’m stupid for not seeing it sooner,” I finally confess.
“Love has different faces,” my mother says. “When you’re ready to let it in it will be as familiar as your own heartbeat.”
“Am I worthy of it? I ran away like a coward.”
“We all make mistakes. What matters is how far are we willing to go to atone for them.”
It has taken me months to come to terms with the truth. I miss Eliza because she saw me, and I got to know her better than myself. I love her. And for the first time, I want to choose the direction of my life.
“As far as I need to.” A new sense of purpose ignites within me. “I do have a private jet.”
My mother smiles. “You do.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
ELIZA
I’d rather chew on broken glass than admit the Rawlings women might be right. They’re certifiably insane, but some of the things they said made sense.
I don’t know what they were on about when it comes to Carter. There’s nothing to prepare for. The thought twists my heart when I let my mind drift for a second, imagining a life where I wake next to him or watch him cook every evening—silly, bittersweet fantasies.
After the Portland luncheon blitz attack, I pulled myself together, brushed off the humiliation, and looked at the bigger picture. It’s not enough to rely on my intuition. Going against the caution encoded in my DNA, I quit the fishing shop job to fast-track my online classes. That day I threw up four times.
Then I asked Quinn for some pointers about promoting my designs, since she has the experience. She’s a one-woman show at her coffee shop.
“Oh. My. God. I was waiting for this moment! I’m so happy you finally asked.”
“I’m working on that.” I laugh. “You know I hate bothering people.”
“I’m sure Quinn won’t mind,” Mike—who’s around most of the time lately—says, making Quinn glitch with his dazzling smile.
