“How long are you expecting that to take?”
“An hour or two.”
“Then you’ll come right back here?”
“Of course.”
He leaned back in his chair and sighed. “So, that means I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Glad we’re on the same page.”
Two
Present Day
Penelope
No one ever bothers to tell you what happens after you’ve given your all and it’s still not enough.
I’d read enough self-help books to fill a swimming pool—highlighted every positive platitude, and I had yet to find the solution for my situation.
In fact, every morning, I woke up hoping that the past few years of my life were a cruel and twisted joke.
I desperately wanted to believe that I never fell face-first onto the ice in competition, or that I never lost several months of my life while being confined to a hospital bed—forever missing out on the chance to beat my mother’s iconic medal record.
Shake it off, Pen. Shake it off.
I focused my attention on the twelve lopsided “We Made it Six Months” cupcakes that were currently cooling on my kitchen counter.
They looked like something out of a horror novel—all cracked open with a burnt spot at their centers, but they’d have to do for now.
This was my fourth and final attempt.
Bing! Bing! Bing!
The timer suddenly sounded, and I pulled a tray of sauce from the oven. After setting it on the counter, I picked up my phone and called my boyfriend, Mack.
“Hey there, Gorgeous,” he answered on the first ring.
“Hey. The timer went off on your sauce. Do you want me to pour it over the noodles?”
“No, let it sit out for a minute. I’m looking for one last garnish, so I’ll be back in ten minutes or so.” He paused. “I’m sorry I wasn’t better prepared to meet your family today.”
“No worries. There’s no rush.” I ended the call and checked the time.
As usual, Hayden was ‘the world revolves around my ego’ late, so Mack could probably take another hour before he arrived.
Out of all the boyfriends I’d ever had, Mack was by far the most sympathetic and caring.
He never said things like, “Things happen for a reason,” “Maybe that career-ending fall was meant to be.” He let me vent and cry whenever it crossed my mind—never told me that it was time to move on.
Hayden did the same, of course, but he didn’t count. He was a constant character in my life’s novel; Mack was an entirely new chapter.
I waited a few minutes before scrolling down to Hayden’s name and hitting call.
“Yes, Penelope?” he answered.
“Where the hell are you?”
“Around the corner from your brownstone.”
“Why are you always late?”
“Because I’m only on time when it counts.” There was a smile in his voice. “I stopped to buy a few gifts.”
“For Mack or me?”
“Mack.” He laughed. “You’re too stubborn to accept anything from me. I’m outside your door now.”
I walked over and looked through the peephole first.
As if he could see me looking at him, he smiled a perfect set of pearly whites.
Sometimes, I still found myself forgetting just how attractive he was. Even when he was dressed down in a white T-shirt and jeans, he managed to look as if he was seconds away from stepping onto the cover of a romance novel.
“People are talking a lot of shit about you on Twitter,” I said, opening the door. “I’m not sure if I should associate with you anymore.”
“I’m not sure if you should keep sending me the worst tweets via screenshot, then.”
“I have to, in order to keep your ego in check.”
“Interesting.” He smiled and pulled a white box out of his pocket, handing it to me. “Here’s the gift for Mack.”
“This gift is addressed to you, Hayden.”
“Oh, right.” He tore the tag off and stuffed it into his pocket. “There. Now, it isn’t.”
I rolled my eyes and ushered him inside.
He walked straight to the refrigerator—as always, stopping when he saw my cupcake concoctions on the counter.
“Please tell me that you don’t expect anyone to eat these,” he said.
“They’ll be fine once I put the frosting on top.”
“I doubt that.” He plucked one from the tin and flipped it over. “They’re fucking burnt, Penelope.”
“They won’t be after I put the frosting on top.” I snatched it back, and he laughed.
“I hope that after today’s ‘Meet the Family’ episode, that you’ll be honest with Mack and tell him about the lackluster sex.” He poured two shots of scotch. “Reaching the six-month mark means you should be able to be honest.”
“Our sex isn’t lackluster.”
“You’ve finally had an orgasm, then?”
“No.” I swatted his hand away from the fruit tray.
“Has he gone down on you?”
“That’s none of your business.” My cheeks reddened.
“So, that’s a no.” He handed a shot glass to me. “You’re fine dying without any of your boyfriends properly doing that to you?”
“It’s not a big deal.” I shrugged. “Not every guy wants to do that.”