Crazy (The Gibson Boys #4)(49)

“I’ve never been fully convinced he actually does like her. For the record.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure he does.” I look up at Navie. “At least in certain ways. I don’t know. I just know I don’t need that negligee tonight. Or ever.”

My spirits sink as I speak the truth. Because it’s the truth.

“You don’t know that,” Navie insists. “Maybe seeing you in that would break the Molly spell.”

I lift the shirts I’m going to buy and lay them on my lap.

As Navie said, I was alone with Peck in his house with no other distractions. Except that’s not true. Because even though he clarified why Molly means so much to him, it didn’t mean her presence disappeared.

It’s so much a part of him. She’s so much a part of him. He could’ve kissed me. I wanted that kiss. But it’s not mine and probably never will be. And I can’t fault Peck for that. In fact, that loyalty, that … honor, it makes me like him even more.

“I wish there wasn’t a Molly spell,” I admit. “If there wasn’t, I’d be all over that. He’s … like sunshine. He makes you feel good.”

She snorts. “I bet he’d make you feel real damn good.”

I hit her with my shoulder.

“You need to take a chance,” she says.

“You’re right. I do. I deserve to be happy and in love. Or just to screw around if that’s what I decide to do. But … I owe it to myself to do that with someone who’s safe to do it with.”

She cocks a brow. “Define safe.”

“Do you know why Charlie left me?”

“Yup. Because he’s a narcissistic asshole.”

“Maybe, but he’s also a decent guy. And while I’m angry that he betrayed me to do it, he really just did what he thought was right for him. And I give him kudos, quietly,” I joke, “for doing it when he did and not dragging it out.”

She scoffs. “Your logic is irritating.”

I grin. “So the answer to my original question about why Charlie left me is that he went back to his first love.” My smile falters. “How do you really argue that?”

A flash of understanding billows through Navie’s eyes. She nods, her lips parting.

I stand. Tossing the clothes I want to purchase for my new job over my arm, I look down at my best friend.

“If I start a new relationship, I want to do it with a man who’s free and clear. One who doesn’t have some deep connection with someone else that I have to worry they’ll rekindle. I just want it to be easy. I don’t want to have to fight for a position.”

She nods again. Getting to her feet, she sighs. “I get that. I really can’t argue it.”

“Right? There’s nothing to argue. And with Peck … he’s a great guy,” I admit sadly. “If all we can be is friends, then I’ll take it. I’d much rather have that then try to embark on some journey that’s doomed before it even starts.”

Navie throws her arm over my shoulder as we head to the cash register.

“If there’s one thing I know for sure about Peck, it’s that he’s not disappointing.”

“Not yet. But everyone will disappoint you at some point.”

“Hey,” she says, shoving me gently. “I take offense to that.”

“I didn’t mean you.”

“You better not have.”

I place my items on the counter and return the attendant’s smile. She rings me up, and I hand her my credit card.

“There is an alternative,” Navie says.

“What’s that?”

“I could hire an assassin.”

I laugh. “She’s kidding,” I tell the woman working the register. “Thank you.”

I take my credit card and receipt. Navie grabs my bags. Together, we head into the early afternoon sun.

The air is not too warm and not too cool. The sun is bright as if luring me into happy thoughts.

“You need to stop overthinking everything,” Navie says. “You just think and think and think, and before you know it, you’re worrying about situations that you’ll never even encounter.”

“Overthinking prepares me.”

“No, overthinking ruins you.” She steps away from my trunk as it pops open. “You’re so used to being the adult. You’ve parented your mother and your siblings your whole damn life. Just … be a twentysomething for a while. Cut yourself some slack.”

She tosses my bags in, and I close the lid.

“I don’t know how to do that,” I admit. “It seems … irresponsible.”

“You know how to take chances. You moved here on a whim, basically. You danced on a bar last night. You moved in with a man you just met.”

“True …”

“So why don’t you take chances when the result could make you really happy?”

“Living here does make me happy.”

She glares at me. “Not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Do I?”

“Don’t write people off just because you had a bad similar experience. So Charlie didn’t pick you. Seriously—good for you. But that doesn’t mean it’ll always be that same situation with every guy you meet.”