Page 120 of A Really Bad Idea

“Did she tell you she wanted a traditional life with a husband who was home at five and home on the weekends?”

“No.” I shake my head as I rub a penny between my fingers. “But she has dreams.”

“So do you. And, for someone who was upset with her for making decisions without consulting you first, you sure are making decisions for her without asking what she damn well wants.” He rises from his desk, his palms flat on the desk as he leans in and gives me a stern eye, similar to the one I got when I took his car for a joyride at sixteen. It’s the face he gives when he’s no longer my friend. He’s my father. “I know I’ve given you advice in the past that you’ve taken to heart, but it’s time that you stop listening to things I’ve said and listen to me now. Don’t be her friend. Don’t leave her alone, and you’d damn well better not seize your dreams over anything other than love.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

He stands up straight and looks me dead in the eye. “Do you love her?”

It doesn’t take a second for the answer to pour right from my heart and straight to my lips. “More than anything.”

“Well then, what the hell are you waiting for?”

Meadow

The sky has long since gone dark, and I’m still sitting here at the edge of the fountain. Despite the night sky, the fountain and arcade of Bethesda Terrace are still packed. The Boathouse on the other side of the lake is lit up, packed with diners enjoying their evening, while I sit here and commiserate with the pigeons.

A pint of ice cream and a long bath are probably the best solution for my horrible existence, but I can’t seem to move. Sure, it’s a bit melodramatic, but at this point, it’s go home, eat my weight in cookie dough, and finish the bottle of Johnnie or sit here for a while longer where at least there’s life surrounding me.

I cried for a while. I cursed a few times and scared off a nice family. There might have been an instance where I gave a lovely-looking couple the finger.

Good news is, I’m not as angry as I was before. My tears have stopped, and I pretty much just feel hopeless.

I’m facing the lake tonight, taking in the way the moonlight hits the water. Its beam of light shines on the glass-like black surface, looking like a beam of hope in the dark abyss.

I should remember this moment when I’m writing my manual.

To my right, a man is doing tricks with his dog, and the poodle is jumping up into the air, doing flips, and even walking on its hind legs. The man hands the dog a treat and gives the pooch a scratch on the tummy. I wish someone loved me as much as that man loved his dog.

I kick a pebble on the ground. “That’s silly, Meadow. You’re loved. Stop being such a sorry sack of—”

“Do you always talk to yourself?”

I look up to see Christian standing with his hands in his pockets, looking down at me with a raised brow and a lopsided smile.

I hate his handsome face and hilarious personality. I hate his suits and leather shoes. I hate the woodsy cologne he wears that seems to stay on all day when everyone else loses their scent after an hour. Mostly, I hate that my heart is racing at the fact that he’s here.

“Rarely. Mostly when I’m feeling sorry for myself, so now seemed like a good time.” I look up at him with a forced grin and then let it go quickly, looking away. The running water of the fountain is enough to drown out the thoughts running through my head, which are telling me that Christian being here might not be a good thing. “What are you doing here?”

“My father told me I was a fool not to run after you.”

“You are a fool,” I say. It’s rather juvenile, but it’s the truth. Then again, if he’s the fool, I’m a joker because I’ve been playing tricks on myself. “Between your dad and my mom, we have the most meddlesome parents in the tri-state area.”

He laughs. It’s that deep baritone that sends chills right up to my head.

“Maybe it’s our fault for taking their advice,” he says.

With his back to the lake, he’s standing in the moonlight, a glow surrounding him, highlighting his perfect, straight nose and strong jaw.

Maybe this would be easier if he wasn’t so handsome.

No, I’d love him if he were half as tall, had a crooked nose, and an eye in the middle of his forehead.

“Why did you run off like that?”

I look away. “You said we couldn’t be friends.”

“No. That we can’t,” he says.