He seems to consider this, then nods. “Sure. I’m down with that. You’re a regular Mr. Knightley.”
I jerk my head back. “From Emma? Who are you?”
He scoffs. “Dude. How far do you think abs like these can take me? Only so far. Gotta back up the sixer with what’s up here.” He taps his temple. “I worship at the altar of Jane Austen. And for the record, Mr. Knightley wins. He was no bullshit with Emma. You should go the Knightley route.” Sam adopts an aristocratic Victorian tone. “‘I cannot make speeches, Emma . . . If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. But you know what I am. You hear nothing but truth from me . . . Yes, you see, you understand my feelings.’”
“Is that what I should say to London?” I ask.
“No way.” He smacks my sternum. “Don’t recycle another dude’s words. Speak from your heart.”
That should be easy enough.
My heart is full for London.
I grab a pen from the glove box, scrawl out a sentence on the front of the bag, then bound up the lawn, around Nate and Eli’s house, and over to London’s studio.
I stop short when I see all the lights are off.
There is no barking pumpkin.
No London either. Where could she be? What if she left for San Francisco?
I shake my head. The interview was earlier today—no way would she have moved cities yet.
But that fear only reaffirms that I’m doing the right thing.
My heart hammers with worry as I set the bag down.
When she returns, she’ll see my note.
Happiness in life is entirely a matter of dog biscuits. And finding the person you’ve fallen in love with.
36
The next morning, I’m up at dawn.
Sleep is for another day. Today is for action. Today is for finding the woman I love and telling her that even one more day apart from her is too much.
I do send her a text though.
Because, you know, details matter.
* * *
Teddy: Hey! Are you still here? Are you heading up to San Francisco for the job? I can’t stop thinking about you, and I would love to see you. Ya know, today.
How to Get Lucky Page 19