“Always. It was nothing at all. I’ll email some loan options for you to explore and see if one might work for you and Camille. Be on the lookout for a phone call soon.”
Not likely.
“I will. I’ll tell Mom you stopped by.”
As much as I know this is the worst news possible, I know it needs to be done. But with what money?That’s the million-dollar question.
Mom has been two times the parent she ever needed to be for me, sacrificing everything she loved just to raise me on her own.
Still does even as an adult.
Iwillfind a way to fix this for her. Even if it kills me.
CHAPTER SIX
cove
“Falling down is not failure. Failure comes when you stay where you have fallen.”
Socrates
“Wouldit be rude of me to insist on paying?”
“Considering they invitedusto dinner, I’m gonna take a guess and say yes,” I tell Betsy as she pours us a glass of red wine before we head out.
“But I can’t just assume this is a date, right? For all I know, it could be entirely for business purposes and rude of me not to pay for myself.”
I stare at her blankly. “It’s a date, B. Get real. The fact that Baker is bringing a friend to meet me only confirms it. You and I don’t even work in the same field. A business dinner of four would make zero sense.”
“Maybe you’re right,” she huffs. “I don’t want to date Baker.”
Betsy slides me my glass. “Then why did you say yes?”
“Because I’m a weak woman, Cove,” she cries. “And you’ve seen Baker. I’m no stronger than the next girl. He’s as tall as the Miami skyline, which can only mean one thing…”
I shake my head, smiling because she’s so fucking dramatic. “A big dick?”
“Of course not,” she proclaims. “Actually, yes. A big dick is good. But it also means he has big hands. And I’m a hands girl. Now, I’m gonna be tortured all night watching him twirl the glass he drinks from and salivate when his fingertips touch around it. Or what if he touches my leg? I’ll probably squirt in my panties.”
“Jesus. Thanks for the mental picture,” I laugh. “Why not take your own advice and have some fun?”
“Because Baker’s parents are friends with my parents. It’s basically a recipe for disaster.”
Something crosses her face that makes me think she’s not being entirely honest. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Betsy takes a slow sip of her wine before rolling the stem in steady circles. I’m directly across the large kitchen island from her, yet her thoughts are elsewhere. “I don’t know…having fun is getting kind of old. We’re thirty, ya know? I just can’t help but think—when does it end?”
I think Betsy’s previous experience with Elliott, the Jo bro, opened her eyes to a new light. And I’ve never related to anything more.
Unfortunately, the men I get to spend my days around are much older than us and still act like children. I’m not sure there’s much hope.
“I get it. I feel the same way. It’s why I refuse to let anyone get close to me. I know you think I’m annoying because of it, but I’ve only seen a side to men that I loathe. The kind that only wants two things and tells you everything you want to hear to get it. Money and pussy.”
Betsy nods in agreement. It’s wild how our energy can shift from giddiness for the night to dread over what’s to come. “When does it end?” she draws out, and I can hear the hurt in her voice.
Betsy has been screwed over far too many times, and although she’s a pro at hiding it, I see her when the mask comes off at home. The way her shoulders shrug when she doesn’t get a kiss goodnight and a “sleep well,” but a proposition to come inside and see her bedroom.
At this stage, it’s starting to feel icky.
