Page 83 of Some Sort of Crazy (Happy Crazy Love 2)
She nudged him with one bare foot. “Party pooper.”
They invited me to stay for pizza, but I said no, thanks, I had some work to do. My brain was whirling with possible things to write about, and I wanted to get the ideas down on paper before I forgot them. I also had to think of a way to propose to her that wasn’t forced or clichéd or impersonal.
Propose. Marriage.
Me.
I grinned as I started the Jeep.
That was fucked up. But I loved it.
• • •
Later that night I called Skylar, who had given me her cell phone number and told me to reach out if I needed help.
“Hey, it’s Miles. I have an idea.”
She squealed. “What can I do?”
“Do you have a decent camera?”
“Yes.”
“Great. Are you working tomorrow?”
“Nope. I’m off Mondays.”
“Can you come to my house in the morning?”
“Yes, but I’m dying. What are we going to do?”
I smiled. “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Bring the camera, please. Hey, do you by any chance have another day off this week?”
“No. But I could take one.”
“What about going in late? Could you go in a little later on Tuesday morning?”
“Sure. My God, Miles. You’re killing me. What are you planning?”
“To upend her life,” I said. “In the best possible way.”
All day Sunday I expected him to get in touch, but he didn’t. I worked that morning, and every time the door opened, I thought it might be him, but it never was. We stayed so busy, I was able to get through the day without breaking down, but the moment I got home, I ran up to my room and crashed onto my bed, sobs wrenching from my throat.
Had I been wrong last night to turn him away? Was I just being stubborn? Refusing to give him a chance to prove he could change because I was scared of being hurt? Had I made him feel like he’d never be enough? Maybe it was my fault and this would be just another almost, another missed opportunity to be happy. Maybe I was too stuck on what I thought my life would look like. But how could I know for sure?
Needing to clear my head, I went to the gym.
I felt a little better after my swim, but my stomach was growling. I thought maybe I’d pick up some takeout from O’Malley’s, so I parked and walked down the block, the summer breeze ruffling my damp hair. I passed the bar where just over a month ago, my sisters and I had gotten drunk on vodka martinis and gotten the reading from Madam Psuka. Instinctively, I looked up at her window and saw the same sign.
I stopped in my tracks.
Had she been right after all?
Let’s see.
Life upended? Check.
Handsome man? Check.
