Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
I push the boxes aside as best as possible and clear a few feet of space to hang my clothes. I wasn’t exactly sure how long I was going to stay in England when I left. InkWell told me to be flexible with my travel schedule for a week or two. Hopefully my wardrobe will survive this harsh winter. I have a lavender beanie and matching gloves, two pairs of wool socks, and some cozy lounge clothes, but I feel like I need a full-blown parka to survive here. Nate’s socks and sweatshirt are still in my room. I don’t want to give them back to him until I can wash them first.
I need to go into town, so once I’ve put away my things, I work up the courage to ask Nate if I can borrow his car. He’s still outside, working in the yard. He’s shoveling snow now, making a clear path from the back door to the shed.
He pauses when I come outside, and he assesses me from head to toe. I’m bundled up as much as I can be with what I brought. He doesn’t look happy to see me, but then, I’m beginning to understand that might just be his usual mood: eyebrows eternally furrowed, mouth ever-so-slightly frowning.
“I’d like to go into town to get some provisions and send a few emails.” I say this with an assertiveness I had to practice up in my room for five minutes before coming down. I’m proud I pulled it off.
He returns to his project. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll drive you.”
“I have my license.”
“In the States,” he says, sounding only slightly more irritable than normal. “Not here.”
Well great, I didn’t think this through. “Never mind, I don’t really need to go that badly. You keep doing—”
“It’s fine. Let me just finish up.” He lifts his chin. “Go inside. On the back door, I have a better coat you can put on.”
I look down at my puffer. “This one is okay.”
He shakes his head and drops his shovel as he passes me by so he can yank open the back door and grab the coat. His coat. It’ll be hilariously big, but he still holds it out for me to take.
“My car has broken down before. I’ve had to walk all the way back to town to get a tow.”
Right. I accept the coat with a thank you and then rush in to make a grocery list. I want to get everything I might need now that I realize I’ll have to rely on Nate to get into town.
Ten minutes later, I’m buckling up in his car. I’m not even sure what make or model it is, some small European thing that might have been assembled in the ’60s, and seeing Nate stuff his tall frame into the driver’s seat makes me smile. He sees my reaction before I can turn away but doesn’t say anything. We bump down the road away from his cottage, and it’s dead silent beyond the tires on the snow.
I already have emails composed to send to my supervisor at work and my family. Now, I’m crafting a text message I can send to Andrew once I get cell service in Sedbergh. I’ve typed out and deleted sentences what feels like a hundred times. Even if Andrew and I are not officially together anymore and haven’t talked in a few weeks, I feel like I owe him some kind of explanation for where I am in case he reaches out. I don’t want him to think I’m purposely ignoring his texts or calls.
“Really concentrating over there,” Nate comments.
I jerk and tilt my phone away from him as if I’m embarrassed by what he might have read.
“Oh…just getting everything ready to send once I get cell service.”
“For your family?”
“Yeah, and work. And…”
Nate’s gaze slides to me like he’s curious about what I’m leaving off.
I change the subject. “Thank you,” I say, trying to initiate some semblance of conversation. “For taking me.”
“It’s fine. I needed to head into town for a few things anyway.”
“How often do you go into Sedbergh?”
I need to know when to expect another trip.
“It depends. At least a few times a week, when the weather allows it. I’ll be glad to take you whenever you need, though.”
I nod, knowing I won’t take him up on that unless it’s a life-or-death emergency. For some reason he’s had a sudden change of heart about me staying to help him work, and I still don’t fully understand why. Until I know his motives and how flimsy they might be, I’m going to be on my best houseguest behavior.
“I’m surprised you don’t drive something else.”
He furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”
I shrug, not sure how to say it without offending him.
He suddenly understands what I’m hinting at. The man is loaded, probably embarrassingly so. I’ve heard rumors about his contract terms and how much they exceed every other author on our roster. “This car works fine.”