Page 82 of The Book Club Boyfriend
I sniff, pulling the blanket down to free my arms.
Me:Tempting.
Chase:I can leave it on your doorstep like a snack fairy. No pressure.
I glance at the clock. It’s late. I look down at my yoga pants and T-shirt-clad body and my general state of emotional disarray.
But the idea of sitting here alone, wallowing, when I could be doing something as simple and silly as eating ice cream with someone who makes me forget—for five minutes—that I’m a mess?
It’s more tempting than I want to admit.
Me:Okay. Five minutes. No pep talks. Just ice cream.
Chase:Scout’s honor.
Pause.
Chase:Unless you were never a Scout. In which case I’ll just promise not to be annoying.
Me:You’re always annoying.
Chase:Be there in ten.
I stare at the message for a moment, then toss my phone onto the bed and mutter, “This better be some damn good ice cream.”
But underneath
it all? A whisper of relief. A little softness breaking through.
Because even if he doesn’t know what’s going on, he still thought to check.
And I’m not sure what to do with that.
Ten minutes later, I hear a knock at my door and freeze.
I glance down at my outfit—an oversized T-shirt, yoga pants, and my long hair twisted into a sad excuse for a bun. The emotional devastation look is really working for me tonight.
Another knock. “Scarlett?”
I sigh and get up to answer it.
Chase stands there in joggers and a hoodie, wearing a grin that shouldn’t be allowed on someone this aggravating. In one hand, he holds a pint of icecream; in the other, Rip is leashed and panting happily, as if he’s been summoned for an official emotional support mission.
“Hey,” he says, like this is the most normal thing in the world.
Rip pushes past him immediately, sniffs at my feet, and then flops down dramatically across my doormat, his tail thumping.
I blink. “You brought Rip?”
“He’s basically a certified comfort professional. He accepts payment in peanut butter and belly rubs.”
Rip rolls over onto his back, as if he heard the terms of the agreement and is ready to collect.
I huff a tiny laugh and step aside to let them in.
Thankfully, Chase says nothing about my appearance. I basically look like heartbreak and emotional damage had a baby.
He just hands me the pint and a spoon, then drops onto my couch like he’s been here before. I remain standing for a moment, watching Rip trot into my living room like he owns the place, before I finally sit down too.
