Page 159 of The Baby Bargain
We both know it.
This isn't a place where I excel.
I don't know if I can handle this information, but I need it. I need this piece of the puzzle. I need to know what the hell my future holds.
Ariel's eyes flit to me. She studies my expression for a moment, then she nods, and turns to the computer.
She taps Grace's username into the search bar.
Pulls up her feed.
There's her profile picture. A new version of a classic. Her winking at the camera, light hair spilling over her face, red lips in a smile, makeup dark.
The first few pictures are easy. Latte art in cream and caramel. Red chucks. A screenshot of a Buttercup Halloween costume on Etsy, withtwo weeks until true lovescribbled in red.
Grace hugging a tall guy with dark hair and dark eyes.
The musician. He's effortless in his leather jacket and jeans. Like he just rolled out of bed with perfect hair andfuck meeyes.
Her arm is around his waist.
His is around her shoulders.
They're at some crowded event. A gallery.
I nodthat one.
Ariel bites her lip, but she opens the image.
I love how my baby supports my art.
Then there's his screenname and a bunch of hashtags.
Fuck, I want to reach out and click his name. To see every single way he's better than I am. And every way he's worse.
That ugly, competitive impulse races through my body.
I need to be better than him.
But I'm not.
No matter what I do, he makes her happy. I don't.
I nod to Arielgo on.
She tabs back to the original page. Scrolls through weeks of history.
The two of them at dinner. A finished painting. The sketch. The mock-up. The inspiration.
A party with friends.
More latte art and dinner and drinks.
The beach. A hike. Dinner with his family.
Summer parties.
Summer projects.
