Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 55171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
“I think only you can answer that.” We’re at my apartment, cleaning it up so I can turn my keys in to management. While also picking up the last few stray boxes that Griff’s truck and my car couldn’t hold. His spare room is officially packed full of boxes, mostly books, decorations that I couldn’t part with, and things I’ve collected along the way. I didn’t even have much in the way of kitchen stuff because yet again, I’m an idiot. Zach and I would have had duplicates. He had the fancier stuff, whereas I had the clearance section items. So, it was smarter to come with less. Which is why I’m partially worried about the newest decision I’ve made. Is it smart to go from one man to the next so soon? It’s obvious Griff is not at all like Zach, but man, I’m a freaking mess while overthinking life lately. Another difference besides the orgasms I get from Griff versus none from Zach is that Griff didn’t complain once about all my stuff. Whereas Zach had to make some smart-ass comment saying books can be donated, use an e-reader. Well, newsflash, psycho Zach, I use both. But nothing, and I mean nothing, beats opening up a book and holding it in your hands while you devour each word on the page.
“Stormy, what your mom is trying to say is this. Live your life to the fullest. You’re going to experience heartbreak, embarrassment, and all kinds of things in between,” Aunt Cat says.
“You can say that again, well, minus heartbreak. When I found out Zach was with Mel all I felt was relief.” God, that feels good to admit to others besides myself.
“You dodged a bullet,” Mom interjects. We laugh for a minute, and my nerves calm down that the two of them would think I was making a massive mistake.
“Back to the point at hand. If I were twenty years younger, honey, and a man like Griff was willing to give it his all, plus unlimited orgasms, I wouldn’t be walking, I’d be running toward him.” Aunt Cat’s theatrics always crack me up. Even right now, she has a straight face, so I know she’s not kidding, but with her yellow gloves, hair scarf, and all white clothes, it’s kind of hard to ever take her seriously. I’m kind of shocked she didn’t come wearing a hazmat suit given the fact cleanliness is most definitely next to Godliness in her eyes.
“Shut up, Cat. No one wants to hear about orgasms from you, or my daughter receiving them.” Mom points her finger at her sister. “Let me ask you a question.” She unpacks one of the boxes that needs to go to Griff’s. I couldn’t close the box, and I didn’t want what is inside to get ruined.
“Mom, we’re supposed to be moving out, not taking things out of boxes.” My collection that isn’t vintage romance books appears. I’m talking finds from a thrift store, Jane Austen and Emily Brontë to name a couple. Except I have many different volumes that I’ve found here and there.
“I’m well aware. I also know you’ve added something to this collection since what was supposed to be your wedding day.” The brick she pulls out with different-colored feathers appears, and there, in the very front, is the newest one. I’ve been collecting them from the beach on certain occasions—my sixteenth birthday, graduating high school, becoming a hair stylist, certain memorable occasions. “So, tell me. Do you have one you found the day of your engagement? Because I know you, Stormy. You are your mother’s child. We keep things that mean something to us. You’ve always been fond of feathers at the beach, bringing them home, washing them, and adding them to your collection. But only on a day that means something to you.” Jesus, my mom knows me a little too well.
I walk over to where she has the block with feathers standing up. None of the feathers I’ve taken are prohibited by the Migratory Bird Treaty Act. One day, I was about to pick a feather up when an older gentleman clued me in to the fact that some feathers are illegal to keep. From that point on, I studied each one or found what type of bird it came from with a quick search on my phone.
“So, when did you add this one to your collection?” Aunt Cat interrupts. I close my eyes. It would have been hard to keep it away from Griff when we were on the beach, and I was drinking as much as my body would allow me to. I wasn’t upset about the lack of wedding; I was upset that I let myself go along with it when my instinct was telling me to run far away as fast as I could.