Page 71 of The Book Club Boyfriend
Lucy grins. “Okay. We don’t have to talk about it.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
We fall into comfortable banter again, and somewhere between chips and guac and a third margarita, I forget to be on guard. I forget to hold my opinions like weapons. I’m just… me.
It’s freeing.
And eventually—the conversation comes back to Chase.
“He drives me insane,” I confess. “In a very infuriating, occasionally confusing way.”
She smirks. “Welcome to the club. I once threw a donut at Bennett’s head during an argument.”
“Did it hit him?”
“Frosted side down,” she says proudly. “Left a smear on his shoulder. He wore it like a badge of honor.”
I laugh harder than I have in weeks. And suddenly, I realize I’ve been holding tension in my chest forso longthat I forgot what it feels like to breathe freely.
And even though I made a big production of not wanting to talk about Chase, I can’t help the way my brain keeps returning to him. The way he looked on the ice—so powerful and in command. The way he teased me over the phone. I even find myself wondering about Rip.
Lucy leans back in her chair, studying me. “Can I say something kind of cheesy?”
“Do I have a choice?”
She grins. “Nope. You’re the real deal, Scarlett. Your work matters. The way you make women feel like they’re enough on their own? That’s powerful as hell. But—” Her eyes soften. “—it’s also okay to beenoughand still want more. To want softness, intimacy, love.”
I go still.
Something in me—something stubborn and deeply buried—shifts.
She doesn’t say it like a warning. She says it like a truth. And weirdly, it doesn’t feel like an attack on everything I’ve built. It feels… possible.
And then she says, quieter now, “You know, your books? It’s great the way you make women feel strong and self-sufficient—it’s powerful.”
I nod, uneasy.
“But,” she adds gently, “being strong doesn’t mean shutting everyone out. And independence isn’t the same thing as loneliness.”
I stiffen. “I’m not lonely.”
“I didn’t say you were.” She smiles, not unkind. “But it’s okay to want more. It doesn’t make you weak. It makes youhuman.”
I don’t respond right away. My throat’s tight, and I don’t know why. Maybe because it’s been a long time since someone said that to me without pity or a punchline. Just truth. Or maybe it’s because I’ve had too much tequila.
“You’re annoying,” I say, my voice rough.
Lucy just laughs. “You’ll get used to it.”
And oddly enough… I kind of hope I do.
We order two baskets of brisket nachos.
And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I have to armor up around another woman. I just feel seen.
Understood.
