Page 83 of Clean Sweep
“C’mon, Les! Any woman would have done the same. Situations like that are intense. Whattaya do?”
I frowned. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am. I’ve certainly done similar things to JJ without meaning to. I just reacted. I’ll bet Tanner is blaming himself because he seems like that kind of guy. If you’re asking whether I think you’ve lost your chance,” she drawled, which I absolutely was but hadn’t exactly put into words, “then my answer is no. I think you’ve been given an opportunity to see how this guy works through conflict. That’s a pretty cool thing.”
“Yeah,” I murmured. “It is.”
“You know that more than anyone,” she added quietly, “because that’s when you knew when things were over with Ethan, remember?”
A moment of silence passed between us.
“I remember,” I whispered.
“But?” Lizbeth drawled.
I dropped down to the floor and propped my back against the bed. My head fell back.
“But I . . . I just don’t know what to do next. Do I call and apologize? Do I wait? Do I let him come to me?”
“Don’t do anything tonight. Go to bed. Sounds like it was an exhausting day and you have a book club at the Frolicking Moose tomorrow, then the wedding two days after that. This can be broached later.”
“Right. Sleep.”
“March into your bathroom,” she demanded, “wash your face, brush your teeth, and climb into bed. Lizbeth’s orders. Just because you’re living a romance novel doesn’t mean you have to fall to pieces.”
“Got it. Thank you.”
I could feel her smile over the phone.
“I always got you, Leslie. I, for one, am happy to hear how you’ve changed course on your romance belief systems. Well done, my friend. Romance approves and will send its mystical powers your way.”
18
TANNER
“Imessed up.”
Celeste peered at me from over the counter, a slice of pizza in her hand. Her gaze tapered.
“What do you mean?”
“With Leslie.”
I shoved the greasy box of pepperoni pizza away from me and dropped my head into my hands with a groan. Yesterday had been replaying through my mind over and over again. I should have handled it differently. That much was blatantly obvious.
But how?
“What happened?” Celeste asked, mouth full of pizza. I shook my head.
“Itotallymessed up.”
She poked me with the end of a fork. “Details, please! Can’t help you until I know what I’m dealing with.”
Reluctantly, I straightened up and spilled everything. Landon. Starla. Their hidden life and new apartment and awful diagnosis and Leslie’s reaction to all. Celeste grew steadily more concerned in my retelling until she finally set the pizza aside and left it to grow cold on top of the box.
“Whoa,” she whispered when I finished.
“Yeah.”
