Page 43 of Love is an Open Book
“Of course.” The rapid-fire questions are making me defensive. “I’d never do this with him if he...”
She raises her brows in agotchaexpression, but I shake my head.
“It’s not like that.” Except now I’m thinking of how close we came to kissing. Twice.
“It’s kind of like that,” she says, as if she can read my mind.
I spear a piece of meat with my fork, not wanting to admit she’s right. “Kim, I’m telling you. There’s nothing going on between me and Gavin. This is me doing something out of character for the sake of my inspiration. Nothing more.”
Her expression turns thoughtful. “What do you plan to wear this weekend?”
The question catches me off guard. “Hadn’t thought about it. Whatever people wear to do yard work, I guess.”
“Aka, nothing in your closet.”
Jeans are my mortal enemy, and my only pair of sneakers is white. “I’ll figure something out.”
She shakes her head. “Hurry and eat. It’s makeover time.”
My sister passes a pair of jeans through the cracked door of the fitting room. Reluctantly, I take them. “Any of these would work.” Nonetheless, I yank on yet another pair of pants, hoping that we’ll hit on one that doesn’t make me feel like I’ve gone cold turkey on comfort.
I catch sight of myself in the mirror and wow, maybe there’s something to be said for denim and strategically placed pockets. I open the door and strike a dramatic pose.
“How do you feel?” Kim asks.
I tamp down a smile. Never thought I’d feel this bubbly while trying on jeans and cargo pants. Almost like I’m getting ready for a date. “Like I’m ready to show some rosebushes who’s boss.”
“Think they’ll trust you with pruning shears?”
I rub my hands together. “A girl can try.”
She spins her finger and reluctantly I turn in a circle. Okay, these do accentuate the curves of my butt and thighs, but the point is not to look cute. I’m only doing this to fit in.
“You need a hat,” Kim says.
I shut the door before she can voice any more opinions. “I look terrible in hats.”
“You look adorable in them.” Her voice carries through the angled slats of the door, and I’m sure everyone in the fitting room can hear us. “Remember those Easter bonnets Mom used to make us wear?”
“I try not to,” I reply, and she laughs. “Also, kid in church is not the look I’m going for.” Too late, I realize my mistake. “In the sense that no grown woman wants to be infantilized.” I pull open the door again, dressed in my own clothes. “Not because this is a date.”
She steps inside and helps sort the pile of discarded clothes.“Sure is a lot of hoops to jump through when you could just admit you like the guy.”
“Of course I like Gavin.” Shaking out a pair of jeans, I fold them neatly. “I love him.”
I catch sight of Kim’s wide eyes in the trio of lighted mirrors, but shake my head, forestalling her reaction. “I love him as a friend. He’s one of the most important people in my life and falling for him wouldn’t just be messy. It would be a huge mistake.”
“Why?”
Sometimes my sister’s cluelessness about how things shook down with Ted baffles me. He went from being a good friend to someone I had to keep at arm’s length so things wouldn’t be weird between me and my sister. But I’m complicit in her lack of awareness since I downplayed things, and now it’s far too late to bring up.
“I’m not denying I haven’t ever thought about it.” Obviously Gavin is hot, I’m not blind. I’m also smart enough to know that my attraction for him would probably equal good chemistry. “But it’s not the dating that would be the problem. It’s that when it inevitably ended, we couldn’t go back to what we have.”
“Who says it would end?” Kim’s always had a rosy view of love, like everything will work out how it’s supposed to. For her, it has. Our parents haven’t given up on love, either. Dad is on his second marriage, and our mom recently started dating again after her four-year relationship ended. But I’m not comfortable with the margin of error. Life isn’t a romance novel, and I’m not willing to gamble Gavin if happy-ever-after isn’t guaranteed.
“What Gavin and I have is special. I’m not risking him over a fling.”
“You’ve been afraid to go for things ever since we were kids,” she says. “You didn’t quit your accounting job until your first book hit the bestseller list, and even then, you gave two weeks’ notice.”
