Page 14 of Gamble

The Friday afternoon traffic was even worse than expected and by the time her hired car hit the 405, it was a parking lot. As her Uber driver inched them forward through traffic, Reagan’s second thoughts about this trip had morphed to third and fourth thoughts. Her gut was screaming at her to have the driver just take her home.

Before she could chicken out, she dialed Meena’s number and was lucky enough that her best friend answered.

“Are you at your gate yet?” she asked.

“God, I wish. I’m still on the 405.”

“Damn, you’re cutting it close. I’m guessing Tristan picked you up late?”

Reagan heard Meena’s censure. Meena wasn’t a huge Tristan fan. She liked to say the only good thing he’d done was get Reagan to move to L.A.

“You could say that. I’m in an Uber.”

“What!? He didn’t flake on you again.”

Reagan noticed it wasn’t posed as a question.

“His flight was delayed in Phoenix. He’s meeting me at the gate in Vegas.”

“He knows you hate flying.”

That wasn’t true. She hated the stress of getting to the airport on time, but Reagan loved getting on planes where she could spend a few hours in the air and then get off in a new city or even country where they could speak a whole different language or use different money. She loved exploring unknown places. But… flying to Las Vegas sucked.

The driver chooses that moment to surge forward, weaving between two enormous trucks, and amping Reagan’s anxiety higher. She tried to distract herself with the question she wanted Meena’s advice on.

“I’m thinking of just coming home.”

Silence met her on the other end of the phone.

“Meena?”

“I’m here. I’m thinking.”

“Okay… about?”

“You know I love you, right?”

Reagan knew where this was headed.

“Yes, and that’s why I called you. I need a Meena hard truth.”

Her best friend always told people what they needed to hear, even if they didn’t want to hear it at that moment. It was just one thing Reagan admired about her.

“I hate how the men you’ve spent time with have you no longer trusting your own judgement.”

Whoa. Where had that come from?

“I thought you were just going to tell me to come home.”

“And I’m tempted to, but that will not solve the root of your problem, Reagan.”

“And what exactly is my problem?” She tried her best not to sound defensive, but didn’t do a very good job of it.

“You are a beautiful, funny, smart, successful woman. You deserve to be treated like a queen, but you keep choosing these loser guys who walk all over you, and I hate it.”

The anxiety she’d been trying to ignore exploded into near panic. “I can’t do this right now.”

“Yes, I know and I am sorry. I just wish you could see yourself as I see you. You want my advice? Then I’ll tell you that as soon as you see Tristan, you need to sit him down and talk through all of the bullshit he’s been doing that hurts you. He already proven he will not read your mind and unless you tell him, you’ll never know if he’s capable of changing for you or not.”