Page 29 of A Beginner's Guide to Forever
She brushes me off. “Just do me a favor and actually let yourself enjoy the ride for once.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I blink at her.
Scarlet scoffs. “Have you met you? You’re not exactly a stop-and-smell-the-roses type of person. You’re responsible to a fault.”
I open my mouth to protest before realizing she’s right. I’m usually too busy anticipating the consequences to have fun. At my first frat party in college, I was too worried about getting busted for underage drinking to actually enjoy myself. During my first big job, I was too responsible to spend my paycheck on the things I wanted, and allotted most of it to my savings account.
Is this what I do? Plan and worry myself to death.
She puts her feet up on the coffee table in front of us. “I hate to be rude, but I am beat.”
I shake my head. “You are not rude—I’m sure you need to rest. And I’m going to go. I’ve got to get to an appointment, and then I’m going to have dinner with my parents later.”
Scarlet’s eyes drift closed. “You go have fun; I’m going to nap right here.”
I smile at her. “Love you.”
She cracks one eyelid. “Love you more.”
After dinner, back at home, I change into pajamas and pour myself a glass of wine. My conversation with Scarlet is still playing through my mind. I thought she would caution me about getting involved with Hart, but she didn’t. He’s not a suitable choice for me, but she was all for me having some fun.
And something tells me it would be fun. He’s extremely attractive, and he’s easy to talk to.
Maybe I don’t need a husband to have kids. I could adopt. Sandra Bullock did it, and she’s awesome. Come to think of it, so did Sheryl Crow. I love her music.Tuesday Night Music Clubis a classic.
Curling up on the couch, I had just grabbed the remote to contemplate the options on Netflix when my phone rings.
Hart’s name is on the screen.
Scarlet’s words flash through my brain. She encouraged me to enjoy the ride, because apparently I’m terrible at enjoying myself. I press the button to answer his call.
“Hello?”
I hear music in the background and people laughing.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi.” I smile. “Where are you?”
“New York,” he says. “Having a few friends over to my apartment.”
Someone shouts a curse word.
Hart chuckles. “That’s my friend Whit. He’s being an ass. I’m sorry. Let me step outside where it’s quieter.”
“That’s okay, you don’t—”
I pause when I hear his friend call out,“Get off the damn phone, Fitzy!”
“Did he just call you Fitzy?”
Hart chuckles. “It’s a nickname. My friends call me Fitz when I’m drunk. My great-great-grandfather Fitzgerald was known to have a drinking problem.”
I’m not sure if that’s meant to be funny, but I find it kind of ...odd.
“Are you drunk?”
“Little bit,” he says, chuckling.
