World's Worst Boyfriend: A Romantic Comedy Adventure (Fake It Book 3) by Carina Taylor (ebook reader online txt) 📗

house. And I knew I’d really stepped in it this time. If only I could dig my way out of this one. But I wasn’t sure how.

Chapter Five

Saidy

After my non-dinner with Fletcher, I went home and immediately began pairing paint swatches with wood tones for a kitchen I would be doing a low-budget kitchen redesign on. The couple scheduled me out in advance to ensure they got the cheapest rate. Those were the people who always ended up spending more in the long run, because they were sure they could drive to Portland and get the supplies for ten dollars cheaper, never taking the cost of fuel and their time into account. They’d spend fifty dollars to save ten. But as long as they paid me, I didn’t care. I truly enjoyed kitchen renovations.

I sat down at my bar and laid the paint chips on the white countertop, arranging them next to my sample pieces of wood stains. I opened my laptop and scrolled through the pictures I had of the old kitchen.

First, I would strip the wood, then re-stain it. While, of course, painting an accent cabinet with a stenciled design on the space between the countertop and overhead cabinets. I found the perfect sink to replace the already existing one that would set off the whole room. I loved the low-set farm sinks, but this one would be at the right height for their counters so there wouldn’t need to be any additional carpentry work.

I obsessed over different options and worked well into the night. Eventually, I made my way to the living room where I ordered fabric for valances before I fell asleep in my favorite chair.

At six a.m., my alarm went off and I popped my back and tried to stretch my neck. It wasn’t easy standing up out of a papasan chair, but somehow I managed it.

The rest of my day was scheduled to be packed. I double-checked to make sure that I didn’t have even one minute to spare until six that evening. My plan was to get an Uber to the mechanic’s shop before work and pick up my car. They’d taken a couple days to go through everything thoroughly, but all they found was some loose wiring that could have possibly caused my car to quit. They tightened things up and told me it was good as new.

From picking up my car, to the rest of the work I had to accomplish, my day was packed.

I didn’t want to spend a single moment thinking about Fletcher. I was afraid of what conclusion I might come to if I allowed myself time to think. So the busier the day, the better.

Staying focused and completely busy was exactly what I did.

I managed to ignore the elephant in my mind the entire day.

From being busy tackling projects, to talking down my friend from spoiling her soon-to-be-fiance’s surprise, I didn’t have one minute where my mind wasn’t occupied.

Even though we met up for lunch, our text conversation before lunchtime had gone something like this:

Andrea: Milo thinks he’s being sneaky.

Me: What did he do?

Andrea: There’s a small velvet box in the glove compartment of his car.

Me: WHAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Andrea: It’s gorgeous.

Me: You looked?? That’s so bad!!

Andrea: You know I can’t help myself!!! And listen, he did amazing. I can’t believe he picked this out on his own. But I think I’m slowly dying inside.

Me: Why? What’s wrong?

Andrea: He still hasn’t proposed!

Me: When did you find it?

Andrea: Last night. I think I’ve burst a blood vessel in my eye trying to be patient.

Me: That’s not good. You don’t want that in your engagement photos. Let’s meet for lunch and I’ll distract you.

Andrea: I’m bringing my wedding magazines.

And so we’d enjoyed lunch where we chatted all things wedding. It had been awkward when Andrea asked how Fletcher was doing, but I’d managed to steer her safely back toward wedding dresses and flower arrangements. Andrea and her boyfriend, Milo, were equally Fletcher’s and my friends. We’d met them after we’d started dating and had quickly gotten to know the sweet couple.

Now it sounded like they would be tying the knot soon. I didn’t even have the energy or emotional capability of being jealous of their stable, apparently committed relationship. I was still broken over mine that was obviously in shambles. Our relationship that I refused to think of as I stared at Andrea’s wedding magazines.

After lunch, I went back to work and kept it business as usual until it was time to go home.

I checked my texts as I unlocked my house after work. No missed messages from Fletcher.

Grandma had sent me a text with a picture of a girl who’d been in my class who had just joined the New York City Ballet. It was a very subtle message—for grandma.

It had been her greatest dream that I would become a ballerina—like she had been. She’d been horrified when my mother got married and raised a family, giving up her “career” on the stage.

The tension between Grandmother and Abuela, my dad’s mom, was palpable at the holidays. Abuela was very proud of the family my parents had raised while Grandmother talked about all the could-have-beens.

After setting my purse down on the entry table, I changed into a pair of comfy yoga pants and a t-shirt, and just in time, turned on the latest live Bee Best podcast and began pulling clothes out of my dryer to fold. Bee was back with a new special guest.

I listened as the podcast hosts droned on about the importance of self-care and its relation to productivity. I pulled out my ironing board and began to iron my shirts while I was reminded that healthy emotional examination was an important form of self-care. Exactly the opposite of what I’d done all day.

I didn’t really want to be thinking about that right now, thank you very much, Bee.

After the wrap up of their topic, they moved on to some fun quotes and then to their