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“Why were you there? Please tell me you aren’t a serial killer? I’m perfectly content to watch them on TV from the comfort and safety of my living room, but in real life? Fuck no.”
A loud laugh exits her chest. “Settle down, will you? One of my assignments for the magazine involved the arena, and it happened to be when your son was practicing. Look at it closer.”
I hold the picture up away from the glare of the sunlight filtering in from the coffee shop windows. It’s the two of us looking at each other. “Row, this is two parents exchanging a proud look about their kid.”
She lifts the picture and places the one behind it in front of me. “My bad. This one.”
My eyes are on Theo, but… Scarlett’s focused on me. My heart thrashes in my chest as I take in her expression. Almost a longing painted in her eyes.
“That is the look of a woman wrestling with her feelings.” She sits back in her chair, a triumphant expression on her face.
“How could you possibly know that?” Hope begins to balloon in my stomach, and I tie a string to it, anchoring it to me so it doesn’t fly away.
“I take pictures for a living, boo. I see things no one else sees. People think they’re hiding, but usually their emotions bling like billboards all over their faces. Here’s another truth nugget for you, honey. I wasn’t at the speed-dating event to speed date.”
The bomb detonates and my head spins. “What do you mean?”
Smirking, she shrugs. “I was there for coffee, answering emails for work. I saw you sitting there all cute and nervous. Something about you made me pay attention, so I decided to join the event for the hell of it.”
My mouth gapes as I lean closer. “Why would you willingly put yourself through that?” I don’t care who it is, I will never willingly do that shit again. Nope. Never. Not even if Ryan Reynolds showed up seeking a date. Just because I’m very straight doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the man’s charisma; it just wouldn’t be enough to get me to change my mind.
She hitches her shoulders and points a pink nail at the picture. “It appears my charade paid off. All Scarlett needed was a little taste of jealousy for her to realize how she feels.”
“It’s just a picture.” My words hold no merit. I’m utterly pathetic and allow myself to feel the tugging rise of hope.
“And this,” she gestures outside and around us with her hands, “is just your life. What do you want to do with it?”
Holding the glossy photo, staring at the woman in it, a clarity washes over me. Rowan’s right. This is my life and what I want to do with it is spend it with those I love. With Scarlett as more than just my best friend.
I’m going to tell her how I feel.
“Good. Glad we’re in agreement,” she croons.
I startle, not realizing I said it out loud. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I dredge up all the confidence I can muster and hold it tight. I don’t know when, but I’m going to do it. I’m going to leap over the cliff and clutch that hope-filled balloon with every ounce of strength I possess.
