“What’s wrong with saying, ‘thank you?’” I asked.
Whitney grimaced. “Nothing specifically. It just doesn’t keep the door open for other conversations. Him saying that he’ll work on the French fry bouquet is a conversation point he’s hoping you’ll latch on to.Morning, beautifulandthinkingofyouare him being sweet, but also not putting pressure on you to reciprocate. If you watch the additional resource videos he has attached to the week one challenge, he talks about communication that encourages reciprocity, and communication that doesn’t put pressure on reciprocity. He says that, in the beginning, it’s best to do a sandwich of the two—no pressure, a nugget to reply to, and then no pressure.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Why does this feel like you two are coaching me in dating rather than helping me beat him?”
Wander sat up in bed. “Why do you want to beat him? Why not enjoy this? Because you’re giving him absolutely nothingand coming out on top here. If anything, your grocery budget is going to be way lower for the next three months.”
“Okay. Good talk. I’ll enjoy the free food and not reciprocate the note conversation.”
Before the girls could argue, I shot Ryan a curt “thank you” text. Two words and nothing else. He wouldn’t know what to do about me not continuing the note conversation.
“Have you seen him since the day after the conference?” Wander asked.
“We . . . got lunch yesterday,” I hedged. “It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. He mentioned pierogies, and they sounded good and?—”
Whitney grinned from ear to ear. “Oh, that’s cute.”
I rolled my eyes. “It was lunch.”
“Yeah, but you went with him willingly,” Wander said with a matching grin. “Careful, Wills. You might end up falling for your totally real fake boyfriend.”
“He is not a real fake boyfriend. He’s a fake boyfriend.”
Whitney tapped her chin. “Enemies to lovers . . . fake dating . . . I’d say you’ve got your own cliché.”
“It’s about time!” Wander said. “You gave me so much shit for the dead aunt cliché.”
“Yeah, but look at how well it turned out for you,” I countered.
“And think about how well this could turn out for you,” Whitney said. “It’s like a 2000s rom-com!”
“The romance movie cliché!” Wander exclaimed.
I just shook my head. “This ends with me moving in a week and never seeing him again. It doesn’t end with him riding a motorcycle through traffic to chase down a taxi. It doesn’t end with him standing outside my window, holding a boombox over his head. It doesn’t end with the two of us living happily ever after. Because this isn’t fiction.”
It ends with me alone. Just like I had been since I moved away from home at eighteen.
I was saved by the bell. An incoming call from my favorite person on earth appeared on my screen, prompting me to either answer and end the video call or send the call to voicemail.
“Shep’s calling. I gotta go.”
“Tell Step Shep we said hi!” Wander said.
“Love you, Wills,” Whitney said. “Even if you’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. And that’s saying a lot because we’re friends with Wander.”
I laughed as I said goodbye and answered the call from Shep.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Autumn. How are you?” Shep asked. His voice was tired but upbeat.
“Good. Just . . . eating breakfast. Are you home or on the road?”
My stepdad, Shepherd Winslow, was an over-the-road trucker. Even though he wasn’t technically my stepdad anymore, since he and my mom divorced when I was in high school, Shep had always been a constant in my life.
“On the road. Coming through Idaho. Did you ever decide where you’re going next? If you head out this way, I found a little diner outside of Boise you’ve gotta try. Best cake you’ll ever have in your life. I got an extra piece to eat for breakfast this morning.”
My phone chimed as a text from Ryan came in.
