Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 120631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 603(@200wpm)___ 483(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 603(@200wpm)___ 483(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
“But you were there for him when Magnus died.”
“Death does weird things to people. He was sad, and I did something to get his mind off his dad.” She didn’t need to know that wasn’t the first time.
Wren sat back and dusted the pie crumbs off her belly. “I don’t believe you.”
“Fine, but I’m telling you the truth.”
“No!” She threw her hands in a mini-tantrum. “I know you care about him!”
“I really don’t. We’ve always gotten on each other’s nerves. We would kill each other in a relationship.”
Her friend’s hope deflated. “Is the sex at least good?”
Jocelyn wanted to lie, but couldn’t get the fib out.
At her silence, Wren smiled. “It is good!” She clapped like an excited seal. “How good?”
For the first time in probably twenty years, Jocelyn felt a flush burn over her cheeks. “It’s…above average.”
“How above?”
It was suddenly roasting in the dining room. “Fine,” she growled. “It’s great, but that doesn’t mean anything, Wren, so get that hopeful look out of your eyes.”
“Great?”
“Yes! What do you want me to say? Is it some of the best sex I’ve ever had? Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
She growled again. “Definitely.”
“Definitely?” Wren laughed.
“So what if he fucks my brains out, and I’m probably addicted to his dick. It doesn’t matter!”
“He’s the best sex you’ve ever had, and that doesn’t matter to you?”
“Who’s the best sex you’ve ever had?” Logan asked, scaring the crap out of both of them.
“Where the hell did you come from?”
“I’m very stealth. Who you fuckin’, Collins?”
“None of your business, Hawthorne.”
He looked at Wren and smirked. When Wren instantly avoided eye contact, he closed the distance. “Come on, Wren. Spill. You know you can’t keep secrets from me.”
“Wren,” Jocelyn said in warning. “Don’t you dare.”
“Wren…” Logan chanted in a slow sing-song voice. “Let it out. You know you want to. Who’s giving Jocelyn that gold-star dick?”
“Greyson!” Wren called for her husband. “Logan’s picking on me.”
“You big baby.” Logan relented the second his older brother stormed into the dining room.
His gaze went to the crumpled napkin and scowled. “Did you make my pregnant wife cry?”
“No, that was me,” Jocelyn said, finishing off the second bottle of wine.
Greyson growled. “Knock it off. Both of you.” He glared at Logan. “Let’s go. We’re still not done out there.”
Once the boys were gone, Wren gave her a sheepish look.
Jocelyn shook her head. “Tattletale.”
Wren giggled, not denying the accusation. “So, what happens now, Joce?”
“Now?” She shrugged. “I continue doing what I always do. Write books, live my life, show up for Town Hall meetings, go to signings, and move on.”
“No. There has to be more.”
“Why? Maybe this was all it was ever meant to be. Or maybe it was never meant to happen in the first place. Soren’s always had big plans, and those plans never included me.”
“Plans change.”
As much as she loved Wren for being the kind of best friend that would take her personal life so personally, her refusal to let this fantasy go was complicating Jocelyn’s own position. She had to stay grounded in reality and know where to draw the line.
“You know the kind of women he likes. I’ll never be like them. I’m never going to change, and neither is he. Why should either of us have to settle?”
“But on some level, don’t you care about him?”
Jocelyn lowered her gaze to the table and twirled the stem of her once again empty wine glass. Her mind went to that first night. Not the funeral, but the night of the lobster trap tree lighting.
Yes, she cared. Probably too much. That was the problem.
“I need to be realistic here, Wren.” Otherwise, she could get hurt.
Wren, reading her mind, reached for her hand and whispered, “Soren would never intentionally hurt you, Joce.”
“I know. But I also don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want to get in his way and I…” She thought about the way they bickered and how they constantly needed to get the last word in on each other. “I don’t want him to hate me.”
“Deep down, Soren loves you. How could he not? You’ve been his friend since grade school.”
But they both knew that kind of platonic affection was not the same as real love. It wasn’t the kind of love to build a life around.
She pulled her hand free. “We’re never going to be compatible that way. And I have to pee.” Pulling back her chair before Wren could say more, Jocelyn escaped to the bathroom.
As she washed her hands, she stared back at her reflection as if looking at a different person who knew all her secrets and silently called her out on the lies. But that person also knew why she needed to let this go.
Instead of returning to the dining room, she went to the barn to see what the boys were doing. The wine had gone to her head, so when it came time to leave, she thought it best to walk home.