Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 85484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
I laugh.
She puts her phone on her lap. “I’m serious. We’re almost thirty freaking years old, Pip. I’m tired of doing this all by myself. I’m actively lowering my standards in hopes I can find some rich old guy who just wants arm candy in exchange for paying my bills.”
“That sounds terrible.”
“Terrible? Why?” She holds out her hands. “I’ve not given up on finding an actual soulmate—if such things even exist. And for the record, I’m not sure they even do. But I’m starting to wonder if soulmate is a social construct designed to make people actually believe they’re supposed to be with their mate to quell the divorce rates.”
I shake my head.
“I mean it.” She picks up her phone again. “I wonder if people around the world believe in soulmates or if that’s just an American thing.”
“No clue.”
“What about you? Do you believe in soulmates?”
I rest my head against the cushions and close my eyes.
Kerissa’s question is one I don’t like answering. It feels like a trap even though I know she doesn’t mean it that way.
In the depths of my heart, I think everyone on the planet has a perfect match somewhere. But the odds of haphazardly bumping into that person are slim.
That’s one of the reasons I love working for Bloom Match. Being surrounded by people who believe in love—that would put themselves out there like our clients do for a chance to meet their lobster—is uplifting. It’s fun. It’s heartwarming, and I love everything about it.
Except for Chuck. Fuck Chuck.
“Probably,” I say, looking at her. “If you take the number of people on Earth, it’s logical to believe that one of those eight billion people would be a perfect fit.”
She smirks. “Ooh. Did you just do math?”
“No. That was logic. Anyway,” I say, tucking my legs beneath me, “just because I believe they exist doesn’t mean I think you’ll necessarily ever meet them.”
“I wouldn’t have pegged you to be the romantic out of the two of us.”
I sigh. “I like the idea of love. It’s a beautiful concept. And for the people who are lucky enough to scan the globe and find that needle in a haystack, I’m happy for them. I just think a lot of people scramble around and assign the word love to things that probably aren’t love at all.”
My body fills with an energy that propels me to my feet.
Talking about love makes me feel like a fraud. It’s a large part of why Chuck’s stupid comment bothered me so much today.
For someone who believes in the four-letter word and works in an industry based around the idea, I don’t know that I’ve ever been loved.
By anyone.
Kerissa is my friend, and I’m sure she loves me in that way. My brother tolerates me. My parents maybe feel an obligation toward me. Then again, maybe they don’t even feel that.
I heave out a breath. The heaviness in my chest is hard to shake.
“What in the world do you mean, Philippa? You aren’t going to medical school? That’s the most ludicrous thing I’ve ever heard.”
“It’s just not for me, Mom. I’m miserable. I can’t see myself as a surgeon or a doctor. I don’t want to.”
My father’s face fell. “You are the biggest disappointment of my life. I hope you know what you’re doing.” He turns to Mom. “Let’s go, Andrea.”
When my boyfriend of one year dumped me because of my future aspirations, he used similar words now that I think of it.
I sigh. Maybe I am a love fraud. Maybe Chuck is right, and I don’t know shit about it.
Ugh. Chuck and right should never be in the same sentence.
“What did you think about Jess Carmichael today?” she asks, looking up at me with a smirk.
My cheeks flush at the mention of his name.
Seeing him again was like seeing an old friend—it was seeing an old friend. But the way my stomach flutters when I think of him feels more like old friends with potential benefits.
Which can’t happen.
“I wondered how long it would take you to bring him up,” I say, sitting beside her again. “We could talk about Banks instead.”
She growls. This time, I laugh.
“Banks isn’t a bad guy,” I say, raising my brows as she starts to argue. “I know you don’t like him, and I know Kandace was really sad when they broke up.”
“Sad? She didn’t leave the house for a month.”
“But Kandace wouldn’t have found Ryan if Banks had stuck around. And don’t we love Ryan for Kandace?”
Her disgust softens. “We do love Ryan for Kandace.”
“See? It worked out.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Fine. But I’m not going to be friends with him. I probably won’t even talk to him. Ever. Because I’m loyal.”
I pat her shoulder and giggle.
“I have a question for you, though,” she says.
“Shoot.”
“How in the hell do you sit next to Jess and not try to ride him like a pony?”