Page 47 of The Quit List
“So you decided to go on all these dates to get over your feelings for him?”
She blows out a breath. “That was part of it. I also realized that I’m turning thirty this year and haven’t achieved any of the things I hoped to have achieved by now. My sister’s married with kids, my best friend’s getting married… I guess I just felt like I was playing catch up. And so, I made a resolution: I had to quit wasting time on what-ifs with Dylan. Quit letting life pass me by. Quit being afraid to step out of my comfort zone.”
“What else had you hoped to achieve by now?”
“I don’t know.” She chuckles dryly. “Cheese and wine with men who are dazzled by my company, weekends away hiking in the mountains… Or whatever story you spun back there.”
She’s clearly trying to make light of how she’s feeling, but as she attempts a laugh, her eyes tear up at the corners instead. I have the urge to wrap my arm around her shoulder again, but I want to respect her space.
“It occurred to me after running into Sabrina that, although I do want to settle down with someone, if I was going to be single all these years, the least I could have done was made the most of it. Go on adventures. Climb the career ladder. Instead, I wasted my fun-loving twenties not having any fun and with nothing much to show for it. I stayed inside my comfort zone and always did what I was supposed to do.”
I had no idea she felt this way—she seems so put together (in every area that’s not dating) that I kind of figured finding her so-called Prince Charming was just the next step in her successful life plan.
“I—” I start.
“Anyhow!” She cuts in, her tone cheery and her cheeks tinging red with what looks like embarrassment. “Enough of this! I’m giving you a sob story you never asked for. Shall we hit up the next baby store?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“No?”
“No,” I repeat.
I think it’s the first time I’ve said no to her. Funny, because I usually say it a lot, to everyone.
But after what she’s just told me, there’s something way more important we need to do right now than shopping.
Something for her.
“Come on, Hollywood.” I reach out and use my thumbs to gently brush the tears that managed to escape from under her eyes. “There’s somewhere else we need to be.”
She blinks up at me, her brown eyes deep and inquisitive and actually really quite pretty. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
Half an hour later, Holly and I are sitting in Edna, turning off the highway.
And yes, she’s using every opportunity she can to make some sort of joke about what she’s calling my “infatuation with seniors.” But I saw the expression on her face when she first saw Edna. She assessed the fully redone and painted siding, the plush seats, the old-timey radio I fixed up instead of replacing. The wonder in her eyes was clear as day.
As it should be. Edna’s a freaking gem.
Holly’s perked up a bit since our conversation outside the baby store, and I can tell she’s curious about where I’m taking her. I myself am curious—excited, even—to see her reaction.
Which, it turns out, is a loud squeak of surprise. “Stone Mountain? I haven’t been here in years!”
“Me neither,” I admit.
Stone Mountain—popular with tourists and cityfolk looking for a day hike—is certainly not the first place I’d come to when I want to get in touch with nature. Way too crowded for my liking. But it was the closest place I could think of that would serve my purpose.
I pull into the lot, pay for parking, and climb out of the van.
Holly, however, hesitates before finally opening her door and addressing me without getting out of her seat. “What are we doing?”
“Hiking.”
“To the top?” She looks alarmed. “I’m wearing a dress. And sandals.”
“Well then, you’ll look good doing it, Hollywood.”