Page 81 of Handle Me

Clara’s words floated to mind. In my experience, when you know, you know.

So much for knowing. Maybe it was different for them. Maybe I wasn’t really in love with Anders.

In the hallway, the door to the nursery opened, and Belle walked out, patting her own small bump. Her pale golden hair was curled in the humidity, her face radiant and joyful. Even in the dim hall, her blue eyes sparkled in delight, and her skin glowed as if she was lit from within.

Great. Another happy person.

I swiped at the evidence I’d been crying, but my hands came back streaked with mascara.

She startled when she turned and spotted me. Clutching her chest, she laughed—until she spotted my stricken face.

“Lola?” She rushed toward me. “What’s wrong?”

I opened my mouth, but then I closed it as I realized there was no way I could tell her without breaking down again.

I was in love with a man who I’d known for a week—albeit a week of being knocked sideways by emotions that swung wildly between annoyance, lust, and love.

“Lola?” She placed a hand on my shoulder, her eyes widening with concern.

A sob tore from my throat, and I flung myself into her arms. She smelled like flowers and cream, and her arms were warm and welcoming. I buried my face in her shoulder and let it all out. Not just the pent-up emotion about how Anders left but also all the fears and worries about how he had changed me.

Belle’s arms tightened around me, and she rubbed soothing circles on my back. “Don’t cry, darling.”

“I’m not crying,” I lied, pulling back and wiping my eyes.

Belle looked me up and down and placed an arm around my waist. She led me toward the couch, but I hesitated.

“You’re busy. I’ll be fine.” The cracking sensation in my chest suggested otherwise, but I plastered a smile on my face.

Belle hugged me, shaking my head. She knew me too well to buy the bullshit I was selling. “If you need to cry, you can cry in front of me.”

I shook my head. I didn’t want to cry in front of anyone. Not even her.

“Is this about a man?” She let me go and looked into my eyes.

I forced myself to nod.

“A man that drives racecars?”

I groaned. “You saw the papers.”

“I saw the tabloids,” she corrected me gently. She sat down and patted the seat next to her. “It’s true, then?”

“It was,” I croaked. “We just ended things.” And then the entire story spilled out of me. The irresistible attraction. The rules. Breaking the rules every chance we got. “And the worst part is,” I sobbed to her, “I think I’m in love with him, which is just stupid. You can’t fall in love in a week!”

“Like hell you can’t,” she said with a snort. “I think the right man makes you fall harder than the wrong one.”

“Not you, too.” I swallowed. I repeated the advice Clara had given me.

Belle laughed, shooting me a sympathetic smile. She picked up a throw pillow and squeezed it. “She’s not wrong. I think you need to put it into perspective.”

“Perspective?”

“I know it feels as if your world has just been shaken, but it hasn’t. You’re still the same woman you were,” she said firmly. “You’re a total badass, and that didn’t change.”

“I don’t feel like a badass,” I admitted, dabbing my eyes with my fingertip.

“You will again, and if he is the right one, he’ll come around.”