Nowthathad Lainey’s attention. She’d gone down enough internet rabbit holes to know that his was clearly a unicorn insurance plan. It would be at least another eighteen months before generic versions could force the price of the medication down anywhere close to that.
But she couldn’tmarryElliot, right? The notion was ridiculous. “I can’tmarryyou. I barely even like you.”
The shrinking daylight glowed against the lines of his face as it melted from serious to coy. “Oh, I think you like me plenty. You liked me enough to give me your number.” His smile was so annoying. And honestly kind of hot, which thankfully looped it back around to annoying.
“You were soaking wet in a gas station parking lot and hitting on your rideshare driver. That was basically a Make-A-Wish.”
He raised a challenging brow. “It wouldn’t be aboutlikingme. It would be an arrangement. A mutually beneficial one.”
“I’m sure.” She let out an icy laugh that seemed to crack him down the center. She picked up her half-eaten ice cream and tossed it into a nearby trash can. “I have to meet Bree and walk her back to my car—I’m her ride—but this has been…eventful.” She moved in the direction of the dimly lit coffee shop.
Elliot called out after her through cupped hands. “Did you make that pregnant woman climb into your car through the driver’s-side door?”
“She likes it!” Lainey wheeled around and walked backward without breaking pace. “It’s prenatal yoga in the wild. Very flexible, very Zen. Even you have to admit that if both doors were operational, that car would be chic as hell.”
“But both doorsaren’toperational. Are they?” He tilted his head and stretched his lips into a smirk.
“Our ice creams were only ten dollars, by the way. I pocketed the twenty.” She spun away from him and doubled her strides in the direction of the coffee shop, eager to have the last word.
“I know. I saw you do it,” he shouted at her backside. “You should really work on your palming technique.”
“Spoken like a man whose childhood best friend was his magic set.” She lifted her hand in a demure little wave, refusingto turn her head even as his glare seared the back of her neck. “But best of luck on your whole ‘marriage’ thing! I really hope you find someone willing to take you up on that. I don’t think I’ll ever be that desperate.”
And the thing was, when she said it, she really thought she meant it.
Chapter 6
Never Trust a Man with a Cleft Chin
61 Days until Busy Season
That night, Laineycouldn’t sleep. To be fair, Lainey often couldn’t sleep. Her bedbound days had a tendency to throw off her body’s circadian rhythm.
You have to take your pills every day. Like, in a row, Bree had lectured her on more than one occasion.Dr. Sapkin said they’d be “life-changing” if you took them as prescribed.
Unfortunately for Lainey, she knew this to be true. For one glorious month, she’d cobbled together a mix of free samples and a coupon for a two-week supply and experienced these “life-changing” effects as described. It didn’t fix everything. They weren’t magic. She still had migraines, but they weren’t as severe and they weren’t nearly as frequent.
That right there was the thing thatwouldchange her life—the frequency. Fewer days trapped under her covers, blocking out the light, and trying desperately not to vomit could be the difference between holding down a normal job or carrying on as she had been. Which, she had to admit, was a little threadbare.
And tonight, the dream of a different life—one that wasn’t controlled by pain—was keeping her up. Elliot’s proposal wastruly unhinged, but it was also the first time in ages she’d believed things could actually change.
Lainey got out of bed and threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, realizing only when she’d made it to her car that she was severely underdressed for the crisp spring night air. It didn’t matter. She wasdoing. She wasmoving. She was taking control of the situation.
It was a bit after midnight, which honestly wasn’t so bad, considering. She drove to the bed and breakfast where Elliot had mentioned he was staying. His truck was parked in the number four spot, so she tried the fourth room first, praying that the Lodge B&B operated under an exacting organizational structure as she banged the tiny cast-iron door knocker at the top of the stairwell.
Relief swelled in her chest at Elliot’s groggy baritone calling out “I’ll be right there” through the wall.
“Lainey?”
He opened the door to reveal a rumpled version of the large, buttoned-up man she’d come to know and vaguely tolerate. Going by his mussed hair and half-lidded eyes, he’d clearly been sleeping and had thrown on a Columbia University sweatshirt over his supposed bedtime uniform of boxer briefs and nothing else.
“Is this a dream?” he asked, squinting at her like she was sunlight shining into his eyes.
“Do you dream about me, Hodges?”
“Nightmares.” He pushed his glasses up his nose, sounding a breath more awake than he had before. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”
Lainey didn’t answer. Instead, she stepped inside his roomand shut the door behind her. Only the bedside lamp was lit. Her skin buzzed with adrenaline.
