Page 72 of The Best Man Problem
She’d thought, for a moment, that Lincoln might be included in that list, but sadly, a full week and a half after their talk at 1up, that didn’t seem to be the case. As much as it hurt to know the man couldn’t get over his past to be with her in the now, she had to thank him. Before Lincoln, she thought relationships were black and white. Passion or compatibility. One or the other. She assumed if you fell head over heels for someone, that fire would burn so bright it would eventually be snuffed out, leaving a trail of devastation in its path. She’d thought she needed to match up with a prospective partner on paper, check off boxes on a list.
Her time with Lincoln taught her you could have both, a wild driving need for each other and the calm comfort of just being together. As much as she wished they could continue exploring all that potential, she knew—just like with her mother—she couldn’t push Lincoln to love her the way she wanted. The way she deserved. He either did or he didn’t, and there was no use pining over him. All she could do was take what lessons from their time together she could and move on.
Any day now.
Someday soon.
Hopefully.
The wind picked up, blowing snow from a nearby parked car into her face. She sputtered, the cold flakes freezing her lips, the frozen bits of moisture hitting her glasses, starting to melt from the warmth radiating off her skin.
Fantastic! She was freezing her butt off, could barely walk on these icy death marches, and now she couldn’t even see.
“Remind me why we went out to lunch again?” she grumbled, clutching her friends’ arms, letting them navigate her toward their destination.
“Because you’ve been working nonstop for the past week and a half and you needed a midday mimosa to loosen you up.”
“I’m fine, thank you very much. And there was hardly enough champagne in that orange juice to call it a mimosa,” she replied to Mo. Or to her general direction. The snow had turned to slush, and now her glasses were making her vision all blurry. She lifted a shoulder, trying to clean a lens on the soft faux fur lining of her coat, but it just made everything worse. Now she was trying to see through blur and cheap imitation animal hairs.
“Let me help,” Pru offered.
Her friend took her glasses, rendering Lilly almost blind. Everything turned into one large, blurred, shapeless object with various colors. Thankfully, Mo still had a good hold on one of her arms. One friend led her down the sidewalk safely while the other cleaned her glasses before popping them back on her face. The world came into sharp focus once again, as did other things.
“Okay, you two are right. I have been a bit…focused lately.”
“It’s okay, sweetie.” Pru slid an arm through Lilly’s once again as they turned the corner, their building in sight. “We understand.”
“I know you do.”
Lilly stopped, forcing her friends to stop as well. She dropped their arms, clutching her hands in front of her as she prepared to do something that would make her extremely uncomfortable but that had to be done.
“Um, I know I’m not the best at expressing my emotions.”
Mo snorted. Pru nudged her with an elbow, and the blond woman mimed zipping her lips.
“It’s okay. I realize I don’t always say or show how much I love you two, but I do. You’ve both been there for me countless times, giving me advice, a shoulder to cry on—”
“Threatening to send laxative brownies to guys who break your heart.”
Her eyes widened as she stared at her roommate. “Mo, please tell me you didn’t send Lincoln your special brownies?”
The woman spread out her hands innocently. “I said threatening, not delivering, and you didn’t deny that he broke your heart, so I might have to—”
“No.” She shook her head. “Please don’t do that. Besides, he didn’t break my heart. I’ve learned that no one can do anything to my heart but me. It’s not broken, but it is a little sad. And it might stay that way for a while, but it will get better, because I have you two.”
“Awww, look at you, Lil.” Mo gave her a small shoulder nudge. “Getting all sappy and stuff.”
“Canon in D” chimed in the air. Lilly searched through her coat pocket for her phone.
“It’s me!” Mo exclaimed, holding up her cell phone.
Lilly glanced at Pru, who also had her phone in her hand, staring at the screen.
“Seriously?” She shook her head at her friends. “I thought we all agreed to change our text notification sound so we wouldn’t be grabbing for our phones at the same time like a bunch of idiots.”
“We did agree,” Mo said as she read her message. “And then none of us changed our tone, assuming the other two would.”
“I can’t figure out how to change anything on this stupid phone,” Lilly complained. “I can send texts and make calls, but otherwise I’m out. Technology hates me.”
