This was a TERRIBLE idea.
Whitney
Are you there yet? You can’t chicken out.
Wander
I mean, you could chicken out if you want to be miserable and heartbroken for the rest of your life.
Whitney
I can be there for moral support in a few hours. It’ll just take me longer to drive down from Providence than usual because this baby makes me pee every thirty minutes.
Wander
Is he there?
Me
Dear God, I hope not.
Whitney
Remember when he said that Wander and I got to be the judges on whether or not you fell in love? You fell in love. Now deal with it.
Me
He said I got to be a judge too. I vote no.
Wander
You’re outvoted, two to one. Suck it up.
The small, brick house in South Jamaica was on a neatly kept patch of grass the size of my fingernail. It was a far cry from the sprawling green of Kansas plains. Still, it felt like home just the same, although I had only been here once.
The hustle and bustle of the Queens neighborhood turned to a blur as I stared at the freshly painted front door.
Fall decorations dotted the small stoop, matching the distinct chill in the air.
I tried to rehearse what I was going to say when the door opened, but the ringing in my ears and my drumroll heartbeat drowned out every thought.
This was officially the worst idea I’d ever had.
Why couldn’t I just text Ryan and tell him I was sorry?
Well, for one, I would have to unblock his number.
I hadn’t spoken to anyone from back home since I left Wander and Jack’s house and made the eleven-hour trek to Queens. I certainly hadn’t spoken to him.
But the great thing about Ryan Ford was that a lot of people wanted to talk to him. Which was exactly why I knew he wouldn’t be at his house. Thanks to the list of appearances on his website, I knew he’d be in Philadelphia for speaking engagements over the next two days. This gave me a little time to breathe and reacclimate to the city without him in it.
The first part of The Winslet Method was brutal, but necessary.
He had jumped into my life and my chaotic, soap opera of a family, but I barely asked about his.
I took a deep breath, knocked on the door, and waited.
The door opened and an older woman appeared. She had graying hair tied in a bun on top of her head and was wearing a Go Army sweatshirt.
