Page 5

Mr. Wiggles

The strangest feelings pulse through me as I look at her face across the table from me.

She’s smiling despite breaking up with her long-term boyfriend last night and subsequently getting fired because of the douchebag move on his part.

And I am the one who put the smile on her face. This may be a crazy plan, but it feels right. This is her chance to take a leap, and if I can support the person I believe in most in the entire world, then it’s my responsibility to help her take that leap.

“When I first moved to San Diego, Tanner and I got a place together. He moved out, but I stayed, and it's way too big for just me. So just come live with me a while. It'll be your chance to get away and build your business,” I say.

She looks at me a little doubtfully. “Are you sure?”

I chuckle. “Absolutely.”

“I just don’t want you to feel like you can't keep living your life just because I'm there,” she says.

My brows dip together. “What do you mean by that? ”

“You know, if you're seeing anybody or want to bring someone back…” She trails off, and somehow the permission to keep living my life feels like a knife right through my heart.

There’s no one else.

It’s her. It’s always been her.

I’ve tried. Believe me, I’ve tried. I’ve experimented with the competition, but she’s the reigning champ.

But her words are yet another reminder that she doesn't feel the same way I do, and she never has.

It's probably a little on the masochistic side to even suggest living together since I’ll be subjecting myself to the daily agony of living with a person that doesn't feel the way I do, but it also feels like having her so close is good for my soul.

Maybe she doesn't love me the way I love her, but regardless, she is still my best friend. We share a history and inside jokes and a lot in common. Even if I have to be subjected to her moving on from her previous relationship, I still have the friendship that means so much to me. And that’s better than nothing.

We finish breakfast, and I grab the bill. She gives me a warning, to which I reply, “Get used to it.”

She lets out a soft sigh that feels a bit like she's relenting.

“Where to?” I ask once we’re out in the parking lot by her car.

“San Diego?” she suggests, and I laugh.

“Do you need to go back to your place to pack your stuff first?”

“Yeah, I probably should. Tyler will be at work by now so I can get in, get what I need, and get out.”

“And you've got me here to help if you want to mess any of his shit up,” I say.

She rewards me with a laugh, and we head over to her place .

“Do we need anything for your place?” she asks on the way over.

“Like what?” I ask.

She lifts a shoulder. “I don't know, like dishes or pots and pans or…” She trails off.

I shake my head. “As of yesterday, I am thirty years old, you know. I sort of know how to cook for myself and actually own a set of pots and pans. I mean, I eat off paper plates, but…”

She looks at my profile as I drive and studies me as she tries to figure out whether I'm teasing her, and when she determines that I am, she says, “Okay, fine. So we don't need dishes.”

I reach over and squeeze her forearm. “You can bring whatever will make it feel like home to you because it’ll be your home, too.”

She pats my hand on her arm. “I'll just take what I need and take stock of what you got when we get there.”

“Anywhere else you want to go before we head out of town?”

She scrunches up her nose in this cute way she has, and I already know what’s coming.

“I should probably stop by the school to grab my things and my parents’ house to let them know what’s going on,” she says.

“Are you going to tell them about your books?”

Her brows furrow tightly together as they create a shadow over her lids, and her lips turn down. “That’s a solid hell to the no, Banks.”

I have no idea what, exactly, she plans to tell them, but something tells me it’ll be good.

Once we get to her place, or her former place, she heads to the bedroom and grabs the suitcase, which she starts to fill with the clothes stored in the dresser.

She directs me to the closet to grab her clothes on hangers, and I fill the backseat of her car pretty quickly.

The trunk holds her suitcase and a couple of boxes, mostly filled with perfume and makeup, along with a few blankets and stuffed animals that span all the way back to the time before I even met her.

I pick up her unicorn. “You still have Mr. Wiggles?”

She takes it from my hands. “I can't believe you remember her name.”

“Who could forget a unicorn named Mr. Wiggles that's female?”

She giggles. “Good point. I used to make up the craziest adventures for Mr. Wiggles and me.”

“Tell me about them,” I say.

“Oh, we’d go find rainbows and ride them all the way to the end.

We’d land in the pot of gold, but it was such a big pot that the whole entire city fit inside, and it was all made of gold.

We’d go into the local pubs with the local unicorns and their owners, and we would eat glitter and drink clouds and go on magical adventures. ” She has a dreamy look in her eyes.

“So you're telling me you had a vivid imagination even as a child,” I say.

“Absolutely,” she says, setting Mr. Wiggles into a box and picking up a penguin, her favorite animal, who I believe is named Penelope. “I've been making up stories my whole life. They just happen to be a little sexier now.”

“A little?” I ask, and she ducks her head a little as her cheeks turn pink. I walk over and give her a quick hug even though I want to hold her in my arms. “Don't you dare be embarrassed about that. Your words are powerful and wonderful and sexy as fuck.”

Her brown eyes are so sweet and innocent as they meet my blue ones.

They look a little misty as she lets out a soft sigh. “Thank you,” she says. “I've gotten the email here and there from readers telling me how much my words mean to them, but nobody in my life has ever made me feel like what I do is important until you did just now.”

“Well, get used to it,” I say, repeating the words I said earlier when I paid the bill at the restaurant.

She deserves the world, and I want to be the one to give it to her.