“This is why we don’t date businessmen!” Odette gulps her margarita. “So boring. So predictable. So entirely repressed.”
“That’s also why we don’t date virgins,” Ophelia mutters lowly. “Good riddance, as far as I’m concerned. He can take his four-carat diamond and shove it up his own ass. It’ll be the most action he sees for a while.”
I roll my eyes. “His problem isn’t his commitment to celibacy. His problem is his commitment to my parents, above everything — even me.”
“You were so right to kick him to the curb.”
“You deserve a guy who’ll put you first, Jo!”
“Thanks, guys. I appreciate that.”
Ophelia makes a drum-roll with her hands on the beach towel. “And behind door number two, we have another bachelor contending for our heroine’s heart….”
Odette cups her hands around her mouth and mimics the sing-song tones of a television game-show host. “Arrrrrrcher Reyessssss!”
“Hilarious,” I mutter, reaching for the pitcher and topping off my glass with another serving of watery margarita. “Really, you guys should do a stand-up routine.”
“Oh, come on! We’re just teasing.”
“You always get so serious when the conversation shifts to him.”
“Because…” I gulp my drink and settle back on my chaise lounger. The sun is so hot, sweat is beading against my brow. “I don’t know how to speak casually when it comes to Archer. Nothing about our relationship is casual. It’s one big, complicated mess.”
“What’s so complicated?” Ophelia asks. “He told you he loves you!”
“He explained why he pushed you away last summer!” Odette chimes in. “And, honestly, it’s a pretty good reason. Your parents… Wow. I thought ours were controlling, but I have a whole new appreciation for them after hearing what yours pulled on you.”
“Why do you think I’m so torn up about this? My family destroyed his life. He’s spent the past year suffering… all alone… because of me.”
“Because of your parents! Not because of you.”
“Logically, I know that’s true. But emotionally…” My eyes are stinging. I blame the bright sunshine overhead. “How can we have any sort of shot at a future together, with such a heavy past tied around our ankles? We don’t stand a chance.”
“First of all, you don’t know that.” Ophelia glares at me. “Second of all, you owe it to him — to yourself — to try. After all this time, all this suffering… All this pining for one another…”
“Serious pining,” Odette confirms.
“You can’t just let him walk out of your life again. You’ll regret it forever.”
“What if he doesn’t want to see me?”
“Why would you think that?” They both look confused.
“He knows where I live. He hasn’t come. If he wanted to talk to me, he would.”
They trade a glance. “Jo, honey… we hate to break this to you, but you’re going to have to be the one to reach out this time.”
“Me?”
“You.” Odette is nodding vigorously. “The guy poured his heart out to you and you just…”
“Ran,” Ophelia confirms.
“I needed time to process!” My voice is defensive. “My whole life had just exploded.”
“Right. You needed to take a beat. And you took it.” Odette begins to apply a fresh coat of sunscreen to her arms. “Now, it’s time to stop hiding and tell him how you feel.”
“He knows how I feel,” I say immediately.
“Does he?” Ophelia takes the sunscreen bottle from her twin. “Maybe he knew how you felt last summer. Before the accident. Before he lost his future. Before he lost baseball. But has he ever heard you say you love him now? As he is? Have you told him you still want a future with him — even if that future looks totally different than the one you always imagined?”
I blink slowly, processing her words. In truth, I’ve always seen it as a given. An indisputable fact.
I love Archer Reyes.
I’ve always loved Archer Reyes.
And I always will love Archer Reyes.
It didn’t occur to me that he might question that unshakable state of reality. I suck in a sharp breath. “You think… he might actually believe I don’t love him anymore because of his injuries? That I might think less of him because he’s not going to be some big-shot MLB star?”
“I don’t know,” she says gently. “Maybe you should ask him.”
My brows arch. “Call him up and say, ‘Hey, Archer, just so you know I’m still in love with you and I want to make a go of it as a couple, despite our track record of monumentally screwing everything up every time we’ve tried in the past?’”
“A little wordy for my taste,” Odette murmurs. “But sure, it gets the point across.”
I snort.
Could it really be that simple?
Could we really just choose to step over the wreckage, hand in hand, and walk forward together?
The twins are right. I owe it to myself to try. If I don’t, I’m as big a hypocrite as Oliver. Hadn’t I, only yesterday, told him that if you really love someone, you fight for them? No matter what?
“Don’t worry, Jo.” Ophelia pats me gently on the back. “It’s all going to work out. You’ll see.”
“And if not… we have more margarita mix.”
I sit up straight on my lounger, suddenly alarmed. “Wait. You want me to call him now? Like, right this minute?”
“No time like the present.”
“But…” I swallow weakly, trying to think of an excuse to get me out of this. As much as I want to talk to Archer, I don’t want to do it with a rapt audience. “I can’t. I’m not ready.”
“You’re ready,” they chorus in unison.
“I don’t even have his phone number saved in my new phone.”
“Use mine.” Odette plucks it from her purse and hands it over. “Go on. The passcode is 666.”
“Um,” I squeak, staring at the phone like it’s a venomous creature. “I…”
I’m saved by a most unlikely source — the tight voice of Mrs. Granger, cutting across the sunny afternoon like a grim reaper’s scythe. “Miss Valentine.”
My head whips around. She’s standing a half-dozen feet from us, glaring from me to the near-empty pitcher to the twins with undisguised distaste.
“Mrs. Granger. It’s Saturday. I didn’t think you were working today.”
“Mmm. So it would seem.” She pauses, nostrils flaring. “I need to speak with you — now, if you please. I will wait in the kitchen.”
She stalks away, leaving us in silence. I glance at the twins apologetically. “Sorry about that. I’m guessing her sudden appearance has something to do with my parents. If I don’t deal with her, she’ll just come back.”
“Guess that’s our cue, then.”
“Just because I have to go doesn’t mean you do! Stay. Tan. I’ll be back eventually. Unless Mrs. Granger plans to knock me unconscious, wrap me in styrofoam, and ship me back to Switzerland against my will.”