Page 118 of Things I Read About

Kat: True. There's still the grill...

Sally: Add it to my bill!

Kat: Okay, Dallas, here I come!

I exhale in relief. The last five days without Nate have been torture. And I am sure seeing him again soon will be even worse.

Right now, I wonder about him. I miss him like a phantom limb, a fascinating mental phenomenon that closely describes my urges to ask Nate a question or look over to the chair in the corner of the library, only to see Dean sitting there instead.

But to see Nate again, his bulking, devastating, handsome frame, in the same room, right now, that sounds worse.

Because I’m embarrassed. I have no self-control with him. What kind of sane, confident woman throws herself at a man over and over?

“It was a couple days of fun. Nothing more. And good thing, because I can’t trust a word out of your mouth anyway.”

“It would just be sex, Sally. Just another quick fling before we both move on and never see each other again.”

“I’m not really what you want and you’re not really what I want.”

“I won’t lose this job and everything I’ve worked for my whole life for…”

Me.

He won’t risk it all just for me.

I read up on this, in my novels. Main characters are not rejected over and over again. Once, maybe twice if it’s a drawn-out saga. After that, they’re done.

Strong heroines move on with their lives. They stand tall and find a new life, a new love. They say no if or when the rejecter comes back. Unless there is amazing, breath-taking could-only-be-written-by-a-romantic-imaginative-female-author groveling and grand gesturing.

Which Nate wouldn’t do.

He won’t come back either.

I finally get it. I’m not enough. If a man loves a woman, he gets a new job. He finds a way. Just like I was willing to move, change schools, do whatever it took to give us a chance. Because he is—was—worth it to me.

But no more.

I have to stand tall and move on with my life.

Which is why I need Kat with me. Sadie and Shep will be distracted with the event, since it’s their new entertainment division of Canton International that’s donating to the rehabilitation center. I’m representing the rest of the family. And adding to the press blurbs, with my MCAT score and Mom’s legacy following me around. It’s fine.

Wait, is it fine?

All my space.

I need to think about it. I can ask them not to mention my scores.

I put my phone down on the piano top and start over again. If Dean minds my playing the same audition piece for hours, he doesn’t show it. Which is a reminder of how Nate rarely showed any interest or emotion, either. It’s their job. Nate was doing his job. I was just his job.

Focus, Sally. Play.

I do.

_____

“We look stunning, if I do say so myself. We need to text Janie a photo later,” Kat says, pinning the last piece of her currently dark blue hair back into a low bun. She looks so much like a moody version of Samantha right now in her black mermaid gown. Like a Goth Barbie.

I snicker at her in the mirror. “Do you own any dresses that aren’t black?”