A week later,I find myself at a party, while my friends celebrate accomplishments, feeling adrift.
Kelley just ran a marathon. Ivy got her LSAT scores back. Jesse just got into another top tier medical school. And I’m happy for them. I am.
But I’m restless.
It’s been radio silence on the Riggs Front since the “you look good in green” text. I saw him once on the quad this past week with a group of guys. He was strutting along, leader of the pack, with his arm slung over Talia’s shoulder and his dudes trailing like puppies, and it made me want to vomit.
But.
A few days ago, out of curiosity that I disguised as research, I went to Bakery On Main and ordered Riggs’s winning cookie. He named it Odette’s Palets, which begrudgingly made me smile. Not only because I now know his mom’s name is Odette, but also because I’m pretty sure most of the people ordering the cookie won’t pronounce it the French way. But then I tasted it, and it pissed me off. Because damn, it was good. I didn’t order more to take home, even though I was really tempted.
Ultimately, I know I can’t let my feelings for him blind my decisions. The Holiday Bake Off could be a great opportunity. The experience is once in a lifetime, and it would be mostly paid for. And if we win... Ten thousand dollars.
I could suffer through a week with Riggs for ten thousand dollars.
I could suffer through a week of almost anything for that kind of money.
I shouldn’t be worried about him worming his way back into my good graces. That ship has sailed. My emotional walls are up, fortified with brick, and reinforced with titanium. There’s absolutely no way he’s going to get to me again, and I can’t pass up this opportunity. If not for myself, then for Bran.
Right?
Yes. Right. So I pull out my phone and send the text I’ve been debating for weeks.
Me: I’ll do it. What do you need me to sign?