Page 21 of Cloudy With a Chance of Bad Decisions

“I’m sorry for pushing you when you’re not ready,” June said, putting her hand back on the wheel. I missed it when it was gone. That simple contact had been more than welcome.

June had no ulterior motive.

None at all.

Not like the people I hooked up with. Not like the clients I worked with at Dad’s company. Not like the socialites I schmoozed at the parties I had no choice but to attend, lest I make our father look bad.

She loved me.

Simple as that.

She wanted to see me as happy as she was.

She knew my aches, my hollows, my wants—how could I fault her for doing her best to help?

I couldn’t.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I replied, because I hated the idea that she’d feel guilty about this. “You’re trying to be helpful. And you were right. Heismy type.”

“You’re not just saying that because it’s what I want to hear?” She sounded dubious, not at all excited like she had earlier.

Self-loathing curled black and heavy in my gut.

“No.” Honesty felt odd and unfamiliar.

Why couldn’t I have just said I liked him in the first place?

Why had I pushed her?

Why was I always pushing?

What was wrong with me?

“I’m not his, though,” I managed. I couldn’t help but recall how very uninterested George had been on the plane. “So it’s pointless.”

June’s smile was back, even brighter than before. Sunnier than the summer day. She arched a brow at me. “You’re everyone’s type.”

I snorted. “That was suspiciously nice.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I said.

The fact that I’d caused that grin made me feel like I’d won an award, and yet, guilt still waged a war in my gut. Because the truth was, though George had walls—so did I. Fortresses, really. And as selfish as it was, I’d rather disappoint than be disappointed.

Which meant I was going to do what I always did. Treat George the way I’d treated the rest of June’s “miss-matches”. Stop flirting with him—when it was clear he didn’t want it.

I wasn’t sure if I was protecting her, or myself. Maybe both?

I’d prefer to get the awkwardness over with before the beginning of her “wedding summer camp”. It would be better that way.

George-Arthur Milton wasn’t my soulmate.

He was a grouchy size queen from New York.

There was no way he was the one person in the world who’d want all I had to offer. It was glaringly obvious thatIwas the real lost cause. And once again, June had given me no choice but to show everyone that.

Even though I knew that responding would only fuel Alex’s curiosity, I hadn’t managed to ignore much during the flight home. When I’d bolted off the plane, Alex had stared after my retreating back with puppy-dog eyes. I’d done my best not to acknowledge him. I’d already given in enough earlier, due to my inability to tune him out.

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