Page 114 of The Blind Date


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River winces, shaking his head. “Ouch.”

“I know, but then I said that she used me for her Riley Sunshine page.”

River’s eyes go wide, and he laughs bitterly. “Damn, man. When you fuck shit up, you do it right.”

“Yeah, and then things got worse,” I say wryly. “What it boils down to is . . . she doesn’t want to be seen as some lonely, desperate loser who has to use a dating app. You know, like the app I poured my heart into designing. I told her that if BlindDate’s not good enough for Riley Sunshine, maybe I’m not good enough for Riley Watson.”

River punches me in the shoulder and growls, but it’s not the fight I was looking for. “Cut that woe-is-me shit out. You’re better than that. Where’s my cocky as hell, arrogant asshole friend? You need to bring a bit of him back.”

I’m surprised. I feel like a complete asshole, though not cocky or arrogant for sure. More like unsure, unworthy.

“I love her, River. And I fucked up. I don’t know how to fix it.”

He rolls his eyes and sighs, not making me feel any better. Hell, maybe making me feel worse. “Look, you offered Riley an opportunity, plain and simple. One you thought she might want, one that might be good for her. All she had to do was say no. Where it went wrong was her putting her feelings of insecurity about her dating life on you, and you walked off. You both fucked up, and you both need to fix it.”

“I don’t know how to do that,” I admit.

“You start with an apology.”

“Sorry, man,” I say instantly.

“Not to me, asshole. To Riley!” He mumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like ‘dumb fuck’. “And she needs to apologize to you, and then you have a conversation.”

He throws his voice deep. “What do you think about this opportunity?” And then higher, “I don’t like it because of this, this, and this.”

Lower again, he finishes, “Okay, I can understand that. Consider this, that, and the other.”

In his own voice, he says, “People who love each other fight. They argue. But they talk through stuff and make decisions together.”

His advice settles over me, sounding right. “How’d you get to be so smart about relationships when you’ve never been in a serious one?” I tease, finally feeling like there might be something to laugh about in all of this.

“My parents are pretty good examples, and I’m smarter than you give me credit for. I know shit,” he brags.

“I never doubted that,” I tell him earnestly, “but you might’ve just proven yourself a bit smarter than I thought.” I hold up my thumb and finger a skinny inch apart. “Does that make me the pretty one now?” I joke.

“Definitely not,” River deadpans. “Look at this.” He draws his hands down his body over his workout clothes. “And look at you.” He scans me from head to toe. I look rough, I know I do. Hair a mess from my fingers, eyes red from tears, and the clothes I wore on my walk with Riley wrinkled worse than if they’d been in the bottom of the laundry hamper.

“All right, so I’m still the smart one. Or at least I will be after I fix this.”

“You’d better,” he tells me sharply, pointing a finger at me.

Breaking the threatening pose, he heads to the kitchen, helping himself to a beer from the fridge. “Though I’m glad I didn’t have to beat the shit out of you tonight. Before Riley called, I’d just hit a new PR on overhead press. My arms are fucking toast.”

“Take that with you. I’m heading back over to Riley’s,” I tell him.

He takes a long drag of the bottle he’s already opened. “Nope. You need to give her a minute to calm down and think. For being all sunshine and shit, she goes nuclear when she detonates. Trust me, a long fuse means a bigger explosion,” he explains. “Me? I’m like little firecrackers going off all the time to keep an even keel.”

“Then at least get me one of those too,” I say, giving in.

I can’t run to Riley now, as much as I want to. But I’m going to fix this. Soon.

But for now, we sit down on the couch like two long-time friends to watch a game. It’s a repeat, but knowing our team wins is reassuring.

Chapter 25

Riley

“Let’s go, Little Miss Sunshine,” Arielle says wryly.

Eli swats at her arm and hisses, “Too soon. Look at her.”

I feel two pairs of eyes on me. They’re concerned but also judging me and the nest I’ve created on my couch. I’ve been here since Noah left.

I tried, I really did. But standing on the sidewalk, I’d felt exposed and broken, and not being able to rally, I’d run for home with Raffy at my side thinking it was some sort of game. I hadn’t made it far, falling to the couch and curling up to call River. He’d cut me off, nearly hanging up on me. I know he’s angry, but I can’t worry about that right now. So I’d called out an SOS to Arielle. And though the white couch is fresh and the yellow blanket is sunny, I am neither of those things.

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