Page 122 of Dream House
I’d like to, but I don’t deny it. “Think about my track record. My longest relationship outside of high school was with Brody, and look how that turned out.”
Pen sets her fists on her hips, still glaring thunderbolts. “You know I love you to my very core, but you’re about to hear some unadulterated truth, my dear.”
I actually flinch.
“What if I don’t wanna hear it?”
“That’s too flippin’ bad,” she spits. “You have never—and I mean never—put yourself out there, Stella.”
I blink like she’s speaking in tongues. “What? O-Of course I have. I’ve dated. I’ve let you set me up. I’ve even tried online—“
“No.” She holds up her long-fingered hand in my face. “That’snotputting yourself out there. In all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never once taken an emotional risk. Not with any man. Not once.”
“I—“ But that one syllable is all I get.
“Brody Michot?” she trills with a face like she’s chugged apple cider vinegar. “Please don’t pretend you ever thought you could have anything real with him.”
I open my mouth to protest, but this time nothing comes out. Maisy’s father never surprised me. Not even when he bolted as soon as shit got real. As soon as it wasn’t fun.
When he left, it pissed me off, but it didn’t break my heart.
Not even a little.
What does that say about me?
I frown at Pen. “What does that say about me?”
She clasps her hands behind her back and gives me a coy look. “What doyouthink that says about you?”
For a moment, I want to poke her in the stomach. How can she let me dangle out here on this limb?
Pen arches a slim brow. “Enough with the face,” she scolds. “I’m not judging.”
“No,” I grouse, scowling. “You’re not judging. You’re making me self-reflect, and I don’t like it.”
Her grin is a mix of sassy and sympathetic. She reaches out and takes one of my clenched fists. “I’ll hold your hand to make it easier.”
I roll my eyes, but I don’t pull away. Instead, I wrap my fingers around hers and squeeze, and it’s just like her hug. Her hand is narrower than mine, her fingers longer and slenderer. Her skin is darker than mine. We don’t match up at all.
Except, we do.
I sigh, staring at our joined hands and thinking that maybe I can do this. Have this kind of radical honesty with myself that she’s pushing me to have.
“Brody was never going to be father material or husband material or life partner material.” I’m certain, for the first time. “I knew that all along without ever really acknowledging it.”
Pen is nodding but waiting.
I think back about those months with him, and they are as flat as a Cajun prairie. “He couldn’t possibly disappoint me,” I admit. “Because I had zero expectations.”
A thought occurs to me, and my laugh startles us both. “Hell, he gave me Maisy, the greatest love of my life. And in that, Brody Michot definitely exceeded my expectations.”
Pen’s amber eyes shine with her smile. “We do have him to thank for that little sprite.” Her smile softens, but her gaze never leaves me. I feel its not-so-patient intensity.
“What else do you want me to say?” I blurt. “That I do that on purpose? Only choose guys who can clear the lowest possible bar?”
Her lips purse to the side as her chin dips. “Is that what you do?”
“If I’m choosing anyone at all,” I say, referring to my long-running dry spells.
