“Then I guess I owe him a double thank-you,” she says, eyeing me over the rim of her wineglass.

“A double thank-you?” Considering the state I’m in, I think a fuck-you would be more appropriate on her part.

“For helping the studio and for helping you.”

“No offense, but I don’t feel very helped.”

She sighs. “I know, darling. But just look at you.”

I run a hand through my greasy hair. “I’d rather not.”

She rolls her eyes. “That’s not what I mean. You’ve been locked up inside of yourself for so long, refusing to do more than dip a toe in the water. But you meet this guy, and it’s pretty obvious you let yourself jump. That’s impressive.”

“Not so impressive considering I did a big freaking belly flop.”

She gives me her I-just-got-out-of-an-ashram smile. “Belly flops are my favorite dive.”

“If you’re going to get all philosophical on me, I’m going to need more wine.” I hold out my glass.

She fills it up, waits for me to take a sip. Then says, “So you belly flopped with this football player?”

“I don’t know what I did with this football player.”

“Seems to me you fell in love with him.”

My laugh is bitter. “Sure seems like it, doesn’t it?”

“So what happened? He doesn’t love you back?”

I think of the pleading look on Shawn’s face when I walked away from him two days ago. Of the messages telling me he didn’t want it to end like this and if we could please just talk. Then I remember the minutes I spent terrified that he was dead, the anguish that came with just the idea of something happening to him.

“I don’t know how he feels about me.”

“Did you ask him?”

I don’t answer, but then I don’t have to.

She reaches for the wine bottle, pours herself a second glass of wine.

Takes a sip.

Then says, “I really messed you up, didn’t I?”

I nearly choke on my own wine. “When you took the money?” I ask cautiously. But it’s not like mea culpas are exactly her thing.

“When I taught you that you couldn’t depend on anyone. I’m sorry for that.”

Sorrys are even less her thing. “What exactly did they do to you in India?” I demand.

She smiles almost sadly. “Not India. I just did a lot of thinking on the plane ride home. And I’m sorry you can’t trust. Even sorrier that I played a part in making you that way.”

I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything. Just silently drink my wine and wonder if I need to batten down the hatches since the apocalypse is obviously on its way.

I really hope there won’t be zombies.

More silence stretches between us, and I can’t help wondering if she’s waiting for me to tell her it’s not her fault. But I’m just drunk enough to be truthful and I can’t do that.

“He’s the kindest person I know.” The words come out of nowhere. “And I still can’t trust him.”

Tags: Tracy Wolff Lightning Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net