Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 264(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 264(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
“Sure. No problem.” I kissed his cheek. “I love you.”
He grabbed his keys from the drawer. “Don’t wait up.”
I watched him leave, feeling a heaviness settle in my chest. Clearly, Leo was not the type of man to take failure well. Probably because he’d done so little of it in his life.
Me? I’d failed all over the place. I’d opened a history-centric bookstore right out of college. It closed after five months when the landlord jacked up the rent. Also, I’d probably overestimated the demand for history books. Just History had been doomed to be history from the start.
Then, about a year later, I went to work for a publisher in New York who’d hired me to acquire historical literature. It felt so exciting to do the very thing I loved: reading history. I’d been sure it was my calling.
Nope.
I hated it—the city, the traffic, the sharks at the office. I quit after fourteen months and went to live with my best friend, Conni, in San Diego, where I got a teaching job at the community college. I dated around for a few years—nothing serious—until I met Leo. Conni had dragged me to a party, and there he was. We hit it off right away, and I moved in with him after a few months, around the time his parents passed. Seemed practical since he needed the moral support, and I was sleeping over every night.
Before I knew it, Leo and I were engaged, and then Conni moved here to San Francisco. It was during a long weekend when Leo and I came to visit that we came up with the idea to buy one of these Victorians. A few months later, Leo found work here, and I landed a new teaching position—step one of our big plan.
In short, there’d been a lot of changes in my life since college, which included every bump in the road imaginable. It was why the issues with this house felt surmountable. Meanwhile, Leo saw this setback as a catastrophe. I hoped in a few days he’d realize there was a light at the end of this tunnel.
I pulled out my phone and logged into Craigslist to post an ad. Short-term room for rent.
“I’m sure he’ll come around, Pipe. Leo’s got a hard head,” said Conni the next morning while sipping her cappuccino across from me. We came to this French café once or twice a month, usually on the weekends when Leo was off golfing with clients, a mandatory part of his job. It was our favorite place to catch up and vent, laugh, or shoot the shit. We also made it a point to wear a scarf. At first, it happened by accident, but after three consecutive Saturdays of us both showing up in scarves, we started doing it on purpose. Today, she had on a brown scarf that matched her short hair. I had on a pink floral chiffon scarf to go with my overalls and low-top Converse. I planned to do some work in the garden after.
As for Leo, he hadn’t come home last night, which was why I asked Conni to meet up early. He’d been refusing to answer my calls or texts.
I raised my hand to flag down our waiter and ordered a bottle of wine, a charcuterie board, and cheese plate. Those were the other reasons to come here besides the excellent coffee. “Extra bread, please.”
The waiter nodded and walked off.
Conni’s big brown eyes lit up. “Wow. Cheese, meat, and wine, all before ten a.m. You really are in a crisis.” Conni set her coffee down. “I was just about to order some snacks, too, so you saved me the trouble. Can you fucking believe Steve?”
Steve had been her boyfriend up until last week. They’d been together almost five months.
“He should’ve told you the truth,” I said, trying my best not to hog up all the pity. At least Leo and I were still together and on the same page. Maybe?
“I told him a thousand times I want kids. I mean, he…” As Conni went on about their breakup, a man in his late twenties, sitting behind her, caught my attention. He kept glancing over, like he knew me or something. Maybe a student from one of my classes?
No, I’d remember eyes like his. Pale, pale gray, like ice mixed with ash. He wore his thick black hair down around his face, obscuring his hard jawline. I got the impression he didn’t want to be noticed, because a good-looking face like his was the type most guys showed off.
“What? Am I boring you already?” Conni snapped her fingers.
“Oh. Sorry. I just thought I saw someone I recognized.”
Just then, the man stood and left. Conni turned her head in time to see his broad back as he walked out.