Page 118 of Book Boyfriends
The cup shines with so much temptation. To know if the things I hope will happen, or if things I haven’t yet even hoped for happen instead. To know what won’t come true to prevent any heartbreak. All I have to do is say yes.
“No. I just want to live it.”
“Excellent.” Her warm stare moves to Hope, who looks between her cup and me.
“Go on.” I bump her shoulder with mine.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
LUCKY FRO-YO
Even the sweetness of the fifteenth-best peanut butter frozen yogurt in the country, per the GF Finder app, isn’t enough to quell the guilt swirling inside me. Hope and I sit at a table outside Yo-Go Gurl Yogurt. She spoons up her sugar-free vanilla, piled high with strawberries, raspberries, and almonds, while I drag my spoon through my peanut butter yogurt, sans toppings.
Lars, Owen, and James are stuck here with no way to get them back. While I did not wish for them, they are here because of me. Each may say they are alright with it, but it’s all wrong. None of them were given a say in this.
“When are you going to tell them?” Hope asks, raking her teeth along her bottom lip.
My shoulders slump. “Today. Once I drop you off, I’ll head over to Jackson’s to give them the news.”
“What are you going to say?”
“I don’t know…” I motion with my spoon, my tone flippant. “Hey, guys, thanks for being magically transported against your will to help me figure out my life. Good news, I figured out my life. Bad news, you’re stuck here.”
“Considering everything, they’ve adjusted to life here. Owen is killing it at Good Girl’s Grub, Lars is shacking up with Jackson, and James is…a work in progress.”
“I guess,” I say, my speech hesitant.
It’s true. James’s duke-ish dickery aside, the three of them are adjusting to life in this realm. The time away from the stories already written for them seems to offer each the respite to soul search. Over the last eight days, each man has shared with me new insights into themselves, the women left behind, and their stories.
Smiling, she goes on, “Also, it wasn’t exactly against their will. Owen says that there was a call to come, and they simply answered.”
“I wonder how much choice they had,” I grumble, thinking of me holding that stupid, unlucky, but maybe also lucky, penny before tossing it into the SPN fountain.
“About as much choice as you.” She aims her fierce expression at me. “Let’s not go backward. Even if you wished for help, you didn’t wish for this. Not to mention your misplaced guilt does nothing for anyone, especially Lars, Owen, and the duke.”
“You’re right.” With a sigh, I rest my elbows on the table and lean forward.
A guilt-laden temper tantrum does nothing for the guys. My contrition offers them no solace or solutions. They’re stuck here, and we need to figure out what that looks like in the long term. Their adjustment may appear promising, but it could just be temporary. Like going on vacation. It also could be some strange Stockholm Syndrome-coping mechanism from being whisked from their reality to ours.
“I had hoped the witchcraft consultant would have had a solution. That this all would have?—”
“A happy ending,” she interjects, her face twinkling.
“Ugh!” Whining, I push my dish away and rest my head on the table.
Guess I’m not as Zen as I thought. After a lifetime hooked on happy endings, it’s going to take more than one week to get me off them.
“At least we know that your thought that selecting one of them would send the other two back was wrong.”
“How do we know that?” I raise my head.
“Your wish is complete, and they are all here. If you selected one of them, they’d still be here anyway. So, at least we dodge the ‘you marrying the duke’ bullet.”
“I would haveneverpicked James.” I make a sour expression.
“I worried about it for a hot minute, but you figured him out far quicker than with your last Lord of Jerkery.”
“Don’t remind me.” My head tilts. “Anyway, picking one of them wouldn’t have completed the wish either. They were always supposed to be my guides, not the solution.”
