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This is why the sunset on Mars appears to be blue.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
WINNIE
“Winnie and Arnie sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N ...”
I punch my sister’s arm before letting my head fall back between my arms at the kitchen table. Ma and Dad are still away, and Georgie is practically glowing, sitting beside me, slurping her iced coffee.
“Don’t be so sad. This is a good thing.” She flips through a glossy magazine on the table, her perfectly manicured nails halting each time she sees an ad for something she likes. “I never saw you like this with Paul. Everything about him wassovanilla.” She raises her gaze to make sure she has my full attention. “You were kind of existing on autopilot. For a while, I wondered what Paul had done to my sister and her sass. But now I see that it’s back. Who knew all you needed was a gorgeous, tall billionaire from the city who shows up at your doorstep with spontaneous love declarations?”
“I did love Paul,” I protest.
“No, you loved theideaof Paul. You loved what he was offering you. The cute, happy family and white picket fence. And to be the wife of a man who is more than the son of a random rancher in Tennessee.”
“That’s very shallow,” I point out. “And untrue.”
“Because people usually start dating each other for altruistic, philosophical reasons?” She arches an eyebrow. “Please. People are attracted to others because of superficial things. To pretend otherwise is to insult both our intelligence. At least what you have with Arnie seems to be a little more earnest than that.”
“It’s Arsène.”
“Arson?” She gasps. “I wouldn’t go that far. I mean, he seems a little toxic, but not enough to raise alarm bells.”
“Be serious.” I take a sip of my coffee, engulfing the mug between my fingers to warm up. “I don’t know if I can do this, Georgie. Go back to New York. Take a chance. After everything that’s happened.”
“Please, Jesus called. He needs his cross back.” Georgie slams her magazine shut. “Can we please skip this part? We both know you’re going. You’d be crazy not to go. You love that man.”
“But he is offering me exactly what Paul did. And look how my previous relationship ended.”
Of course, I relayed everything that happened to Georgie. All the bad stuff. TheGracestuff.
My sister stands up and rounds my chair. She places both her hands on my shoulders and digs her thumbs into my sore muscles in a massage. “Heartbreak is a terrible reason not to give love a second chance. It’s like swearing off food because of food poisoning. Or ... or ... I don’t know! Like avoiding ice cream because you don’t like one flavor. Love has so much more to offer than heartbreak. It’s hope. It’s butterflies. It’s wisdom. It’s family and shelter. Peace and babies.”
I clutch one of her hands over my shoulder, letting out a shaky breath.
“I may not be able to have children. He says he doesn’t mind, but what if he does? What if he will, Georgie?”
She freezes for a moment. She’s been circling this subject for a while now, trying to get more information. I, on my end, never gave her an answer. Too afraid I’d break down if I open the subject. Not anymore. Now it’s all out in the open.
Georgie regroups. She clears her throat and returns to massaging my shoulders. “What if the sky falls? What if a meteor strikes us tomorrow? What if a war breaks out between us and Canada? I know, they’re nice, but can we truly trust people who buy their milk in bags? I’ve seen somethin’ about it on the news. It’s a thing, Winnie. And it’s real.”
“Thanks for the detour.” I look up at her, grinning.
“It’s not just a detour, hon. I mean it. Maybe you won’t be able to have kids. But that could be said about every single woman out there who isn’t currently pregnant. And as far as I know, men don’t ask for fertility proof from the doctor before popping the question. Life, by definition, is a gamble. You win some, you lose some. The important thing is—always lose with a victorious smile.”
But I think it is more than that. In this game of life, the really important part is not who wins or who loses. It is that you and your partner have the same goal. The same endgame.
Ever since Arsène left yesterday, I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t even breathe properly. All I did was think about him and his offer. An offer I cannot refuse, even if it means putting my heart on the line again.
“But ... what do I do?” I rub my cheek. “Do I just show up at his place?”
“I mean ...” Georgie pushes away from me and grabs her iced coffee. “A phone call would be anticlimactic, considering the circumstances. Especially as he’s come here twice now. That’s a Hugh Grant–level gesture right there.”
“You don’t even like Hugh Grant.” I frown. “You once said he was an inarticulate fool.”
“I like what he represents, okay?” Georgie rolls her eyes, sucking hard on her straw. “Now go pack a bag. This room ain’t big enough for both of us.”
My body stands up of its own accord, and I’m moving toward our bedroom, in a weird, unbreakable trance.
