Page 20 of Someone to Tempt
She frowns when my words come out snappish, which I don’t mean. "I'm sorry," I say immediately. “This isn’t on you. I'm the one who should be supporting you. I'm not funandI'm a bad friend, which is still about me.” I slap a palm against my forehead. “Shit. I'm a narcissist on top of everything else."
She covers her face with her hands, and my heart lurches, launching me straight into recovery mode. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap or swear. I take it all back. I love the dance class. I'm havingsomuch fun, the time of my life."
Sloane’s shoulders are shaking now, and I feel like the biggest asshole who ever lived. But when she finally raises her gaze to mine, her eyes shimmering, I realize they aren't sad tears or angry or accusatory tears.
She looks delighted.
"I love you, Iris.” She reaches out to hug me then dashes her fingers across her cheeks. “You aren't selfish or a narcissist. Trust me. Thanks to my parents, I’m well-versed in narcissism."
“Are you actually crying fromhappinessright now?” I ask slowly. My heart still hasn't calmed to a normal speed. "I just told you I'm failing at my bucket list challenge. It’s the one thing you wanted from us. I’m failing you, Sloane.”
A sharp bark of laughter escapes her lips, and she presses a hand over her mouth as my eyes go wide.
“Watching you struggle with something as simple as having fun is…well, the most fun I've had in a long time."
My brain works to process her words. I’m glad I’ve made her smile but…
“Should I be offended?”
She hugs me again. "I love you because you treat me like a normal person, Iris. Not like I'm sick." She swallows then adds in a whisper, "Like I'm dying."
"You aren't dying.” I wrap my arms tight around her thin shoulders. “Don't say that.”
“We’re all dying,” she insists. "I happen to know what might kill me, and I can't forget it because no one lets me. Except you. You aren't failing at the challenge. It's not supposed to be easy. It's supposed to push you out of your comfort zone into something different."
"A better version of me."
“A morefunversion,” she clarifies.
I look up at the clouds, fluffy cotton balls against a deep blue backdrop. The air carries a crisp scent of fallen foliage, and it’s only a matter of time until the gorgeous October weather changes and we get our first snowstorm.
Will it be before or after Sloane leaves for Nashville again? Before or after the upcoming election? A sense of urgency bubbles up inside me, some tangible pressure to transform my life before the season changes. “It’s nothing if I can’t do it,” I whisper.
“You can,” Sloane promises, and I want to believe her. “If dancing isn't fun?—"
"It is." I bite down on my lower lip and try not to cringe. “I love dancing. I dance alone in my kitchen all the time. Heck, I’ve danced in your kitchen.”
“Is that what those spastic movements are called?" Sloane pretends to be shocked. "I thought a spider crawled up your leg."
"Very funny.” My gut tightens. “I don’t know why I thought joining a class would automatically change things. It's not fun to look like a fool.”
Sloane shrugs. “What if part of the challenge is to learn not to care? I know you love dancing. I also love that you might have to work a little bit to make this class fun."
“What’s fun about partnering with a man I hate?"
Sloane makes a hum of approval in her throat. “Ah, yes. Jake Byrne. Now we're getting to the good stuff."
“Give me a break. It’s one thing to not worry about looking like a fool dancing with some old dude. Jake isgood, and he doesn't even have to try. He never has to try. It all comes so easy to him."
"You don't know that. Maybe he said yes to the class because he’s trying to get on his grandfather's good side. Come on. It has to be more fun to dance with sex-on-a-stick Jake Byrne than some shriveled up octogenarian."
"I don't think about sex when I look at Jake."
"Everybody—men, women, probably even Sadie’s pack of canine clients—thinks about sex when they look at Jake," she argues. “If you want to have some real fun?—"
“Hell, no. You know what he did to Nick."
"I know what Nick did to himself,” she says gently. “Your brother made choices, Iris. Plenty of bad ones, all on his own. It might be time to stop blaming Jake.”
