Page 105 of The One
She sighed. “Finally, I’m getting somewhere. Why was it so bad?”
“There was nothing there. No chemistry. No spark—if that’s what it’s called.”
I glanced toward the dark hallway that separated the bedrooms from the living room, remembering how I’d stood there for a few minutes last night before leaving my apartment for the date, wondering if I should just cancel. I’d had no desire to meet up with the man who’d asked me out at my gym a few days before. Maybe that was half my problem. I was dating because I was supposed to, not because I wanted to.
She lifted her arms, dancing as though there were music playing. In Pen’s head, music constantly played. After a few beats, she stilled and said, “Your first date since you’ve been back in LA. That’s kind of a big deal.”
“Why is that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because LA reminds you of a certain someone, which is the reason you left the States in the first place.”
A wave of confusion came across me. I couldn’t place where it had come from or what it meant. I just knew something suddenly didn’t feel right.
“I didn’t leave because of Rhett—fuck.”
“The name you never mention.” She rubbed her hands together. “Oh, this is about to get good.”
I got up and walked into the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of vodka from the freezer and two glasses from the cabinet, and returned to the living room. I poured some into each cup and handed one to Pen. I didn’t clink them together and do a cheers. I just brought the glass right up to my mouth and took a sip.
Rhett.
I waited to feel better about that name.
For the tightness to break free from my chest and my breathing to return to normal.
I downed the rest of the vodka and poured myself some more.
Even that didn’t help.
Pen eyed me. “You all right there, sister?”
“Yep.”
“Let’s talk about Rhett.”
I glared at her from the next couch cushion. “Let’s not.”
“Have you seen him since you’ve been back?”
I nodded. “Once. By accident.” The memory of that random meetup felt odd. The place, the timing, the feeling that had come over me when I found Rhett asleep. I wouldn’t get into that. I wasn’t sure why; it just felt like something I shouldn’t talk about.
At least with my sister.
“And?” She bent her arm, resting her elbow on one of the pillows, her hand pressed against her cheek.
We were identical, yet Pen had gotten the better genes and, like my father, never aged. No gray hair. No wrinkles. I’d just gotten my first Botox treatment since returning to California, and my forehead still wasn’t as smooth as hers.
“There is noand, Pen. We saw each other, we parted ways. End of story.”
“Why does it need to be the end?”
My eyes narrowed, the confusion building within me. “Why does it feel strange, hearing those words come fromyourmouth?”
She smiled. “I don’t know. Call me a hopeless romantic?”
I laughed. “You’re hardly one of those.”
“Then, let’s say, I’m rooting for the guy.”
