Living Out Loud (Austen, #3)(48)

I rubbed the back of my neck. “Yeah, I guess, but we’ll both be working.”

“What other ideas do you have?” Cam asked. “You should have seen her talking about your day together. Based on that alone, I’d say you definitely have a shot.”

The thought only made me feel more miserable. “I was thinking about asking Rose for tickets to the ballet. One of Annie’s things on her list is to see a Broadway show.”

Cam lit up. “Oh my God, do it. Take her to the Russian Tea Room and the ballet. Do it. Do it!” She bounced in her seat. “Rose, get him tickets!”

Rose laughed. “I can get you tickets, easy.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little obvious?” I asked.

“Well, why be subtle? It’s romantic, and she’ll feel like a princess,” Cam insisted. “If there’s anything between you, she won’t be able to avoid it after a night like that. Think of it like…like a litmus test.”

I shook my head. “I don’t even know if she’ll agree.”

At that, Cam smiled with mischief on her mind. “Well, you know I’ll help however I can. Need me to create an elaborate ruse? No prob. Well-placed encouragement? Consider it done.”

And just like that, my fluttering hope was back, and my sense of self-preservation was shot. “You think I can honestly make it happen?”

“I know so. Don’t you worry.”

And for a brief, blissful moment, I let myself believe.



Annie

I took Will’s arm and let him usher me out of Wasted Words, but my mind was turned back to Greg.

He was upset, and I was the reason.

If I hadn’t had plans with Will, I would have gone with Greg on the donut scavenger hunt in a heartbeat—not just because I enjoyed spending time with him so much, but because I really wanted to talk to him. I had a million questions for him but no opportunity to ask.

He’d remembered my mention of something in passing, found a way to see it through, and come to work on his day off to deliver it to me. The gesture was considerate and kind, and telling him no hurt—not just because I wanted to go, but because of the look of disappointment on his face.

I wanted to see Greg happy, wanted to make him happy, wanted to give him a million yeses. And I would have, if it hadn’t been for Will. Who was, if I had to guess, the other reason Greg was so upset. He wouldn’t even look me in the eye when I said goodbye.

Judging by the testosterone fumes left lingering in the air, I thought they’d had words again, and I wanted to know what they were. It was no surprise they didn’t get along. I knew Greg was protective, and if Will had hurt his sister, Greg would have defended her with his last breath.

And I was itching to hear the story from Greg. Because what Will had said, especially about Greg hating him for having money, didn’t sound like the Greg I knew at all.

I knew Greg well enough to know that he was solid and loyal and honorable. He wouldn’t lie, and if he had a problem, there was probably just cause.

On really thinking about it, I realized I knew him better than I’d fully admitted. There was a strange connection between us, something latent and natural. It just was. We just were.

It was a reminder of how little control we had over chemistry. When you typically met someone, you found commonality, connections, topics for conversation, but it was some level of work, even if it was enjoyable work. It took effort. But sometimes, we met people we fell into stride with so naturally that the connection required no thought or cultivation; it threw all of your other relationships into shadow by the sheer brilliance of the light.

That was Greg and me—easy and uninhibited, a joining of two streams to make a river.

Which is why he’s such a great friend, I told the part of myself that imagined it could be more than that.

“You okay?” Will asked as he opened the car door.

“I was just thinking about Greg,” I said before climbing in.

Will stiffened, waiting for me to scoot all the way in before getting in behind me. “What about him?”

“Did you fight? He seemed upset.”

Will rolled his shoulder in a shrug. “He doesn’t like me, Annie, and he never will.”

I frowned at the prospect that they’d never get along. “You can’t be civil?”

“I can. I don’t know if he can.”

“I’ll talk to him,” I resolved, the conversation already working in my mind.

He let out a sigh. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

“Psh, I run strictly on hopes.”

That earned me a little bit of a smile.

I changed the subject in the interest of not ruining my first date. “So, where are we going?”

He reached for my hand. “You’ll see. How was your day?”

“Largely uneventful until there at the end,” I teased. “How about you?”

“The worst. I’ve been waiting all day for this.” He smiled, a sweet, genuine curve of his lips.

“Where do you work?”

The smile faltered. “I’m in between things right now.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. College and adulthood,” he said. “I graduated from Yale last year, but I’m not ready to lock into a career. Fortunately, I’m in the unique position to do absolutely nothing for as long as I want.”