Page 53 of Betting on Lizzie

“Or,” she said, dragging the word out a good three seconds. “And hear me out. What if you go? I mean, are you exclusive with Lizzie?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “We haven’t talked about exclusivity.”

“Well, I like Lizzie. I do. But she doesn’t seem like the type to settle down, you know?”

“You’re the one that wanted me to get together with her. You set us up.”

“That was to get your feet wet. Practice a little. Plus, it’s not like I know very many grown women.”

Maya did have a point. And Lizzie did have a reputation for short-term relationships. He liked her, but did she see him as just another notch in her metaphorical belt?

“Shouldn’t I run it by her first?” he asked.

“I don’t think she’s as serious as you are, Dad.” She sighed sympathetically. “I just saw her having coffee with some guy three days ago. It seemed like a date.”

“What? When? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t know about you guys. It was Wednesday, and I was bummed because I couldn’t go to practice, so I thought I’d get a pick-me-up treat and do homework at the new Drip. Also, Bella is crushing on this guy who works there, and I told her I’d watch to see if he’s as nice to the other baristas as he is to her.”

“Stay on track.”

“Right. Sorry.” She shook her head. “Anyway, I wasn’t there five minutes, and in walks Lizzie and some guy. They get coffee, have a cozy, twenty-minute chat, and leave together.”

“Oh.” Ben had to admit that bummed him out a little. They hadn’t decided on boy- or girlfriend titles, and they’d only hung out a few times, but he thought they’d really connected and were moving toward something. Something that didn’t involve dating other people. He’d been out of the game so long though, that it was entirely possible he’d misread the situation.

“So,” Maya said. “How about you meet this lady and see how it feels? It’s just lunch.”

“All right,” he said. “Guess I’m out of excuses. I’ll go. But next time, ask me before you set something up.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Sunday morning, Lizzie woke with Ben on the brain—same as when she’d fallen asleep. He stirred up a gaggle of foreign, uncomfortable feelings that she now had to muddle through and make sense of. When she was with him, the world seemed right. But as soon as she stepped away, doubts flooded in. She’d gone to bed planning to break up with him, but laying here now, she wanted to do the opposite.

“What should I do, boy?” she asked Charlie. “Should I tell him I like him?”

That would be weird. Then again, everything about this was weird. It was as if he’d burrowed into her soul with no plans to decamp. She never found herself on this end of a relationship—well, not since she was seventeen. And look how that had turned out. She’d told a boy how she felt and watched the whole thing go sideways.

She kicked herself. That was over a decade ago. She was thirty years old. It was about time she moved on from that loser, Riley. If she ever wanted to find a man—and the idea wasn’t quite as repulsive as it had been a month ago—she’d have to overcome her fear of rejection and her need to always be in control.

“Screw it,” she said, picking up her phone. No way she would say it out loud, in person, to his face. But a text shouldn’t be that hard.

I like you. She typed it out, then stared at it. Three little words. So simple, yet so terrifying. Should she run it by Lucy? No, Lucy was busy with her family. Lizzie already knew she’d be fully on board anyway. Her sister was a sucker for love and expressing it. No, Lizzie had to put on her big girl panties and do this all by herself.

“What is wrong with me?” she asked the dog.

Charlie looked up and cocked his head. “Damn, you’re cute, mutt.” She reached out to pet him. He lumbered up onto the couch and laid his ginormous head on her lap.

“Fine, you’re right. I’ll just do it.” Lizzie hit send and threw the phone onto the loveseat kitty-corner from her. “No take backs now. Come on. I can’t sit around all day and wait to see what he says.”

She leashed up Charlie, and right as they were about to leave, she heard the ding, indicating she’d received a text. Reluctantly, she dug her phone from the couch cushions.

“I can’t look,” she said, turning the screen to Charlie. “What does it say?” Charlie barked and stared at the door.

“You’re no help.” She inhaled deeply and opened the text.

I like you too—winky face.

He liked her too. And a winky face? Her heart filled, and she let out the breath she’d been holding.

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