Ready or Not (The Love Game Book 4) by Elizabeth Hayley (i wanna iguana read aloud txt) 📗

“It’s not.”

“Uh, it definitely is embarrassing. I’m just feeling the distance, I guess. We both are. But that doesn’t mean we’re ready to get married. We’re still so young, and we don’t even have real careers. I’m helping run a part of a bar until we’re ready to move on to something bigger, and Aamee’s working with her mom, who I know she hates even though she won’t admit it.”

“Why do those things matter? You’re talking about love, not opening up a 403B.”

“Yeah, but marriage is forever.” He looked up at me. “Or it’s supposed to be. Sorry, man, but I’m sure you know better than anyone that marriage isn’t as easy as everyone says it is.”

“Do people say it’s easy?” I tried to keep my words lighthearted when my chest felt like it was being stripped of all oxygen. Nothing about that time in my life was easy.

He seemed to ponder my question for longer than necessary before finally saying, “No, I guess they don’t. So what’s the story with you and your…?”

“Emily.”

“Your Emily,” Brody said.

I knew his question was an innocent one, mainly to make conversation more than to probe me for details that would help him figure out his own shit. Which was good because nothing in my past could help anyone. All it could do was hurt.

“Not much of a story there,” I said, trying my best to sound casual. “We were best friends who got married young.”

I hoped that was enough to explain it and was relieved when I saw Drew approach with another pitcher of beer.

“Sorry it took so long. I miss anything?”

Brody held out his glass for Drew to fill. “Ransom was just about to tell us about his ex. They were like fourteen when they got married.”

“That’s like some Romeo and Juliet shit right there. Weren’t they around that age too?” Drew asked.

“We weren’t fourteen,” I said, even though I figured Drew had enough sense to know that couldn’t possibly be true.

“Okay, then how young is young?”

“Nineteen,” I answered, already regretting sharing anything at all about the situation.

“Fourteen? Nineteen? What’s the difference?” Brody joked.

“Five years.”

Brody laughed as he brought his glass up to his mouth, and I wondered how long I was going to have to figure out how to avoid talking about a subject I tried not to even think about.

“Well, maybe the marriage didn’t work out,” he said, gripping my shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “But at least both of you didn’t end up dying.”

“Right,” I managed to squeak out. Not both of us.

T A Y L O R

I exited the Treehouse feeling like I was finally starting to get ahead. Now that I was able to handle more tables on my own, I’d been getting pretty good tips, even on weeknights, which was great because I usually didn’t get scheduled for both weekend nights. That, combined with the money I made from Safe Haven, meant hopefully soon I could stop feeling like I was squatting in some abandoned apartment.

Over the last month or so, I’d been slowly outfitting the place, but I still needed some of the more expensive stuff. It might be a while until I could invest in furniture, but at least the steady money meant I could pay off some of my credit card. I’d put more than I would’ve liked to on there for essentials once my dad had stopped paying for anything other than my classes.

I was just getting ready to get into my car when my phone rang. I smiled when I saw Ransom’s name on the screen.

“Hey,” I said, pulling my car door open and tossing my bag onto my passenger’s seat.

“Hey.”

“What’s up?”

“Nothing, really.”

I waited for a few seconds before I said, “Um, you called me.”

“Right, yeah, sorry. I was just out with Brody and Drew, but I got tired of beating them in pool, so I left.”

“Sounds like a rough night.”

“What are you doing right now?” he asked.

“Well, right now I’m sitting in my car in the Treehouse parking lot talking to you.”

I heard him laugh softly. “Fair enough. What are you about to do?”

“I have big plans that involve returning my mom’s three calls from earlier today, at least four episodes of Schitt’s Creek, and my pajamas. Though not necessarily in that order. I live an exciting life.”

“Well, is there any chance you want some company living your exciting life? Because clearly mine’s so exciting that I’m begging someone who’s just waited tables for most of the day and will most likely fall asleep watching a show I’ve never seen to entertain me.”

It was amazing how well Ransom knew me. There was a chance I wouldn’t even make it more than one episode. “First of all, we need to rectify the never seen Schitt’s Creek problem.”

“Is it really a problem?” he asked before I got a chance to bring up my second point.

“Yes. A big one. I’ve seen all six seasons twice and a few of my favorite episodes more than that. It gets funnier every time.”

“It actually sounds like you’re the one with the problem.”

“Shut up,” I said, laughing. “And second of all, it didn’t sound like you were ‘begging’ for me to hang out with you, so I feel like I’m missing out. What does a begging Ransom Holt sound like?”

“I’m not even sure I know what he sounds like.”

“Well, then I guess it’ll just be me and the Roses tonight.” I sighed dramatically.

“Am I supposed to know what that means?”

“It means I’ll be watching Netflix alone in a pair of teal pajamas with cats all over them unless you beg me to do otherwise.” He didn’t say anything, and I wondered whether he was rethinking his decision to be my friend. “Also, the cats have these creepy eyes that almost seem like they’re following you when you look at—”

“Taylor Peterson, please let me binge-watch some comedy with you because I need a good laugh, and if that doesn’t do it, I’m sure your cat outfit will.”