Declan leaving me on read is for the best.
I take a drink of green juice, and Gemma cringes.
“It’s healthy,” I explain, swallowing a mouthful that tastes like wet grass.
She gestures toward one of the servers weaving past us, silver tray stacked with decadent bites. “You know this event is fully catered with food that’s chewable and seasoned.”
I eye a platter of grilled shrimp skewered between blistered cherry tomatoes and creamy balls of mozzarella.
“I’m recalibrating my gut biome,” I say primly.
“You’re recalibrating your taste buds into an early grave.”
I snort and crack a smile. I missed her so much.
“Laugh all you want,” I say, lifting the compostable bottle and sipping again, grimacing only a little. “But this chlorophyll elixir is going to keep me radiant well into my third divorce.”
Gemma shakes her head. “There’s no way you’ll end up married three times.”
“I could get married if I wanted.” The words tumble out faster than I mean them to, and my cheeks flush hot. “It’s not like there aren’t guys who want to marry me.”
I’m not destined to be alone. I’m just wary of putting myself out there. A lot of people would say my pessimism is healthy realism. And it’s not like I’m the only one hiding behind a carefully crafted dating persona and reinventing myself biweekly.
My dating technique is…protective. Whatever. I don’t have to justify my decisions. Point is, I’m not in a healthy, stable romantic relationship becauseIdon’twantto be in one. So…there.
“If I wanted to be with someone.” I continue my justification aloud even though I definitely do not feel any type of way about it. “I could be. Iwouldbe. Men would be lined up around the block to—”
“Okay,” Gemma cuts in gently before I’m forced to find an end to that thought. “I’m not saying you couldn’t get married three times. You’re fucking amazing, Amanda. What I’m saying is that once you find your person, you’re going to be with him forever.”
A lump rises in my throat. It’s sudden and uninvitedand so full of hope I don’t know what to do with it.
“And I can’t picture you having an actual wedding,” she adds, swirling her champagne. “Not in a traditional sense anyway. You’d shout your vows over an exploding volcano or… I don’t know.” She tilts her chin, thoughtful, a teasing glint in her eye. “WWAD?”
I shake my head. “I don’t—”
“What would Amanda do?”
WhatwouldAmanda do?
Hopefully Gemma has the answer, because I have no fucking clue.
My phone trills, breaking us both out of our trances.
My heart rate ticks up as I flip my phone over and swipe eagerly, checking the notification from Flutter.
“App update,” I groan. “Who needs a notification about that?”
Gemma shakes her head and laughs into her champagne flute.
I chew my cheek, pretending that she doesn’t see what I’m trying to hide. But she does. We’ve been too close too long for her not to.
“Gimme.” She holds out her hand, and I know exactly what she wants without having to ask.
I sigh and pull up his profile before handing her the phone. “His name’s Declan Thorne.”
Her mouth drops the same way mine did when his picture first came across my screen.
“Okay,” she says slowly. “Second hottest man I’ve ever seen.”
