Page 78 of Truck Me
“There are no time frames on these things. They happen when they happen.”
“I guess,” I sigh.
“So you like him? Like, really like him? This isn’t just about good dick?”
I snort. “Have I mentioned that I miss you?”
“No, you haven’t, but it would be nice to hear every once in a while.”
“Well, I do.” I chuckle. “I needed a good laugh to help get me out of my head.”
“Are you out now? Is it safe to analyze your earlier ramblings?”
“Yes, it’s safe. I can’t promise I won’t break down on you, but please tell me I’m not crazy and mean it.”
“Babe, you are not crazy. You’re a gorgeous woman who found herself a fine piece of ass to brighten up her otherwise gloomy life. Let yourself have this and don’t overthink it. Dating doesn’t mean you’re going to marry the guy. It doesn’t even mean you’re super serious.”
“Then what does it mean?”
“It means exactly what you said to each other. You’re gonna fuck each other and no one else. Unless there’s more you’re not telling me.”
“No. I think that about sums it up.” I worry my bottom lip. “You don’t think I’m crazy for agreeing to this?”
“No.” She pauses for a moment. “Just be careful though. Okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“Char, you’re not a fling kind of gal. You’re a commitment gal. You want the happily-ever-after. The husband. The kids. The cute little house with the white picket fence. Just make sure you keep your wits about you, and you’ll be fine.”
I nod, even though she can’t see me. “He’s nothing like Brad.”
“Brad’s a douche, so I’d say that’s a good thing.”
“I mean he’s …” I let out a low breath, not really sure how to explain what I’m feeling. “Brad was everything I thought I wanted—classy, professional, well-educated, career-focused. Garret is a country boy through and through. He’s a handyman because it’s convenient and easy. Not because he’s fulfilling some lifelong dream.”
“Why does any of that matter?”
“I don’t know. Just something I’ve been thinking about lately.”
“Is this really about him or about you?”
“Him … or me. I don’t know. Maybe both of us. You’re asking me really hard questions that I don’t know how to answer.”
“Do you remember when our friendship was new?”
I furrow my brows. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Just bear with me for a moment. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“I helped you get the apartment next door to me. You were fresh from beauty school, and—”
“Cosmetology school,” I correct.
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Let me finish.”
I toss my hand up in surrender. Despite sharing the profession with me, Sierra has always gotten a kick out of picking on me about calling it beauty school because she knows I don’t like it. She’s done it so much over the years, it’s become a habit. “Fine. Please go on.”