Harlee lets out a fast exhale. “Oh, so it’s forbidden! That makes it evenmoresweet, don’t cha think? It’s like a twenty-first century version of Romeo and Juliet. I’m here for it. I’ll be your maid of honor.”
“Whoa, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. I just gotun-engaged. I have no interest in planning a fictional wedding. I feel like that’s just setting me up for more heartbreak.” I let out a dry laugh, but my stomach knots up at the thought. It’s too sensitive to even play with the idea.
I really thought Cal was the one.
“Sorry.” Harlee gives me a sympathetic look, then reaches out and squeezes my hand. “It’s too soon, and I’m so sorry. I was just trying to lighten the mood, you know? I think the pen pal thing really is sweet—even if it’s just as friends. Weston seems like a lot of fun. You should totally write him from Florida. That would be so cute…” Her voice trails off as the SUV pulls into the airport. “Oh!” Her eyes widen, turning to me. “Let’s take a pic of you wearing the cape on the beach! You can send it to him!”
I fall into silence, mulling it over. “You know…” I picture it in my head. “That actually might be really cool. I bet he would get a good laugh out of it.”
“Yes!” Harlee pumps her fist. “We’retotallygonna do it.”
The car pulls up to the terminal, and we pile out. The driver helps us with our bags, and I take a moment to tuck the card and cape into my backpack, which almost feels like I’m taking a little piece of Weston with me to Florida.
And I don’t know why that feels like something sentimental, but it does.
Maybe this will be fun.
Chapter Sixteen
Brittany
“Florida!!” Jen, one of Harlee’s friends, sings loudly as we step out onto the beach house’s deck. She’s a ball of fire, and while she’s from the same small town as Harlee, she now works in Los Angeles. But you’d never know, given her cowboy boots with her beachy, pale-yellow sundress.
“Youhaveto see this place we always go to.” Harlee threads her arm through mine, guiding me.
“I can’t wait.” I smile at her and then glance down at my sandals and black flowy dress, hoping I fit the vibe of wherever we’re headed.
“We can walk there from here,” Jen says, pointing somewhere I can’t quite see. The beach house we’re staying in is one of manyset along the gulf coast. It’s beautiful and warm, and the breeze is blowing through my hair as Harlee and I meander behind her.
This place is something out of movies. Although, so is New York City, so I guess it’s just a differentkindof movie. New York is fast paced. But where I’m at right now seems like the perfect setting for a Nicolas Sparks book or movie, and I’m not sure which I’d prefer.
“You know, there’s not that many people around since Spring Break isn’t here yet,” Jen says from ahead of us, stopping so that she’s walking on the other side of me. “What do you think so far?”
“I think it’s beautiful,” I admit, rolling my lips together. “I could come here more often.”
“You should come with us every year,” Harlee chimes in. “It’s a shame Louise and Mara aren’t here. They’resomuch fun. You’d have loved them, and I’m sure they’d have loved you, too.”
“You’re pretty awesome.” Jen gives me a grin. “I’m so glad Harlee convinced you to come.” She pauses, flipping her hair over her shoulder and gesturing toward a beachside bar and cabana. People are dancing and drinking, and there’s a fire going, closer to the water.
Again, like straight out of a movie.
“Ugh, I just love this place.” Harlee sighs, tugging me forward at a much faster rate. “And I could totally meet the love of my life tonight!”
“Me, too.” Jen sounds a little less enthusiastic about the idea, and I take note of it, wondering what she’s been through.
Maybe she got her heart broken, too.
There’s something comforting about knowing that all three of us are single. It makes me feel just a little less alone.
But I’m not looking for anything right now.
I don’t need to be jumping from relationship to relationship.
And that’s what I keep telling myself as we walk to the counter to order a few drinks.
“I’ll have a “Piña colada,” I say to the bartender, who barely looks old enough to be working as one. She makes our drinks quickly, as a country song hums through the place. It’s charming, and as soon as I have my drink in my hands, I turn around to see what people are up to.
“We should dance,” Harlee offers, sipping her own fruity drink. She’s watching the crowd like I am, with fascination in her eyes. She turns to meet my gaze. “Do you wanna?”
