“Forget them. That shit’s crazy. It’ll take over your life.”
“It’s how I pay my rent,” she said with a grimace. “I’m supposed to inspire people to want a life like mine. Same shoes, same poké bowl for lunch, same nail vanish … same cheating asshole fiancé. What a joke.”
“Hey, listen. Your world’s been turned upside down. The big event you were planning is not only not taking place, but the guy you were expecting to spend your life with turns out to be not worthy of your love. Give yourself some recovery time.”
She had gone back to staring into her cup as if the answer to her problems were hidden somewhere in its depths. I waited for her to glance up and when she did, fat tears spilled down her face.
“I’ve made such a mess,” she sniffed, and I grabbed a paper towel and handed it to her. “I don’t even know if I loved him.”
My reaction to that piece of news should have filled me with guilt. I wanted to shout yes and high-five her because I could never see how Rex deserved someone as sweet as Saylor. I nodded instead, with what I hoped was a compassionate therapist face. Someone she could safely confide in.
“He clearly didn’t love me,” she managed to get out as she blew her nose.
“I think he’s incapable of love.” I’m not sure if they were words of comfort or not. “Here’s an idea. It’s stopped snowing, so let’s have some breakfast then go look around. We can take some photos for your followers or fans, or whatever they are. Empty woods, trees covered in snow. We can make you look so alone your people will start a fund to finance a rescue party. There’s a river nearby. It’s stunning.”
Her smile lit up the kitchen. We stared at each other while chaos reigned in my head. I was only steps away from her. Walls I’d built crumbled when her tongue swept around her parted lips. Our eyes stayed locked. We’d never done that. We’d never progressed beyond furtive glances, always keeping ourselves in check.
This new playing field we occupied was level, with goalposts set so very fucking low we were in danger of tripping on them and falling into each other’s arms.
Our eyes continued their war. Hers so green with an unusual dark radial pattern that reminded me of a trapiche emerald. Rare. Saylor was rare. Her hair was in a loose ponytail. Mahogany hair with soft, lazy curls. I wanted to touch it, push the free strands away from her face, twist it around my fist at the nape of her neck and tilt her head until her lips were aimed perfectly at mine.
Just when I thought we couldn’t hold this position a moment longer without tumbling into each other, she made a small noise and pushed off her seat. Her cheeks were flushed.
“I have eggs,” she said, opening the fridge.
Spell broken, and with that, a conclusion. As far as Saylor was concerned, I was going in.