Page 34 of A Beginner's Guide to Forever
“What’d you bring me?” She motions for the pastry box of scones with grabby hands that say “Come to mama.”
“Help yourself.” I chuckle.
“Yes, please,” she says, peeking inside the box. “These look amazing. So, what do you want to do first?”
I’m apparently out of practice at having a best friend who’s pregnant, because the first two things I suggest—getting in the hot tub and ordering sushi—get nixed. We opt instead for lounging on the couch amid a cozy nest of throw pillows and fuzzy blankets.
While Scarlet nibbles on a pumpkin scone, she turns to me. “So ... what’s the latest and greatest with you and what’s his name? Hartford.” She bats her eyelashes for effect. She’s ridiculous.
I hesitate to mention his invitation to Napa. I haven’t decided yet, and hearing Scar’s opinion might cloud my thinking. “Well, things are fine, good, I guess.” The truth is, I’m really not sure what to think about him yet. He’s absolutely cute and funny and kind. Not to mention brilliant and wealthy. He’s probably every girl’s dream. I’m just not sure if he’sthisgirl’s dream.
“I can tell you’ve got something on your mind, so you might as well hit me with it.” It’s barely 11:00 a.m., and I’m already eyeing the wine I brought.
She picks at her pumpkin scone. “I’ve given it some thought, and from a purely mathematical standpoint, the numbers may not add up.”
Scarlet is an engineer. I should have known she’d make my personal dilemma into an equation. Like this is something that can be easily solved. Something that can be measured out and sorted and arranged so it all fits neatly together. I’ve learned real life doesn’t work that way.
“Care to elaborate on that?”
“You guys are at two different stages of life. His is one where going out and ordering shots is acceptable. You are in a vastly different place. You crave stability.”
I scrunch my nose in what I’m certain is a very unladylike manor. I’m not that boring, am I? “I don’t know if that’s true.”
“I know you better than you know yourself.”
“Wrong.”
Scarlet isn’t fazed. “You cry at sad movies but never in real life.”
That can’t be true.Can it?
“You love making lists but only if there’s cute pens involved.”
Okay, so she does know me. I do love a good pen.
“I’m worried he can’t provide you with the stability you need while he’s still figuring himself out.”
“Okay, rude. I don’t need someone to provide for me.”
“How was that rude? I’m just being honest.”
She’s honest to a fault. It’s usually one of the things I love about her. Keywordusually.
Then again, maybe Scarlet is right. Maybe this is industrial-grade self-sabotage. Maybe I’m too scared of growing up, so I’m choosing a man who’s all wrong for me.
Setting down her scone, Scarlet arranges a pillow behind her. “All I’m saying is that the math might not be mathing on the two of you together, but ...” She lingers over the word.
“But what?”
“But I still think this could be good for you. So, I say, just lean in to whatever this is and enjoy the ride.”
It’s basically the same sentiment I currently share. I have no idea what’s going to happen between Hart and me, and I’m not even sure that anything will happen. So there’s no sense in talking it to death. In fact, part of me is regretting even telling her about him.
“New rule,” I announce. “For the rest of the girls’ weekend, we are not discussing my love life.”
She smiles serenely, but I can tell her wheels are turning. “Fine. In that case, I have a rule of my own.”
“Let’s hear it.”
