Page 4 of From Our First

Of course, Paris was happy and in love with Prior. And, really, I should get over myself. But, seriously. It was a little spooky.

Me:Okay, I will change into my shoes and come over. But no shenanigans.

Paris:Honey, you’re about to get all the shenanigans. You earned it.

I sighed, cursing at myself. This whole situation was my fault. I did deserve this. All of it. I just really hated that I had no control.

* * *

Our friend Dakotaowned the Boulder Bean, a cute little coffee shop and bakery right in the heart of Boulder. I loved this area. Even though it wasn’t my hometown, I had made it my home.

The city was filled with every type of person you could possibly imagine.

The business executive on his way to a meeting. Of course, that guy probably had a mountain home or liked to snowboard or wasn’t exactly the New York or LA kind of guy I was used to in my past.

There was also the mom with her five kids, looking frazzled but excited because they were outside in the fresh air, the beautiful mountains the perfect backdrop for any occasion.

Then there were the crunchy granola hipsters, the ones that kept Boulder weird.

The college students. The ones either half-baked, fully baked, or completely exhausted because I had a feeling it was midterm season given what my friend Hazel had said. She taught at one of the main universities in the city. Though the huge university was the University of Colorado, Boulder University was up-and-coming.

All of those people plus many more made Boulder unique, and all the weird that it wanted to be. It was completely different from what I had grown up with, and precisely what I needed. I might’ve tried to go to college for a bit in Denver, but that hadn’t worked out. And I didn’t want to think about it. I couldn’t.

Once again, I pushed that out of my mind and told myself that I would talk about it with my therapist. The next time I went. If that ever happened.

I looked up at the small coffee shop and smiled. The place was busy, Dakota’s steady stream of customers loyal and increasing by the day. She was doing amazingly, and I was so proud of her.

She had been through hell and back more than once in her life, and now she and her son and Macon were making things right. They were a family. And they were doing wonderfully.

I ignored the little clutch in my belly at that. It wasn’t that I wasn’t happy for her. I was beyond happy. But there was jealousy there, too. And there shouldn’t be. I shouldn’t be envious of an idea that wouldn’t change my outcome.

And I hated that I knew that. I wanted the idea of that family. The idea that I could have one. I wanted that. I desired that happiness. I had tried for it once, but I had been wrong. So, yes, I was jealous of my friends. And I hated that. But I knew if I went for it, if I walked in there, I still wouldn’t have what they did.

Because I would never havehim.

“Suck it up, Myra,” I said and walked through the doors, a little out of breath. “Hello there, girls,” I added, making my way to our usual booth.

Hazel sat there, her tablet in her hand as she worked through something. Work or planning her wedding, I wasn’t sure. She was starting to get that bridal fever, and I kind of loved it.

She and Cross were made for each other, even though they’d almost lost everything to get where they were. Much like everybody else at this table had. Somehow, the courtships brought about through this pact system of ours had created a craziness that I still couldn’t explain.

But it had worked out for them.

I didn’t think there was enough fate and magic pixie dust left in the universe to make it work for me, though.

“There you are,” Paris said, setting her enormous paper planner down beside her. The thing seemed to increase in size every time I looked at it, and I couldn’t help but hold back a smile.

“I promised I’d be here. Hello, Paris. And Paris’s planner.”

“Are you making fun of my planner?” Paris asked in her most haughty tone.

“Maybe.” I took a seat across the booth from her.

My friend narrowed her eyes at me. “Beware, I will write down in my planner that I will have to smite you if you continue to do so.”

Hazel took a sip of her drink and snorted some foam. “Smite?” she asked, and I shook my head, doing my best not to let my lips twitch.

“Is it smote? Or smoted?” I asked, playing along to annoy Paris.

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