Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 147136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 736(@200wpm)___ 589(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 736(@200wpm)___ 589(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
But this man called me Wild.
I liked it. I’d never had a nickname before.
I wanted to be Wild.
I could be Wild. Why not? What was stopping me?
While I was doing all this wondering, Brian grew impatient and sent me another message.
You busy?
I carried the phone to the bed while typing out my response and sat down on the edge.
No. Just thinking. You sure it isn’t toes?
My mind automatically went to all 206 bones in the human body, specifically ones that began with the letter T.
None of them fit the four-letter requirement, except for toes. And runners could most certainly break toes.
It isn’t.
Are you sure? That’s the only thing that fits.
Positive.
How are you positive?
Doesn’t fit with the next clue. Answer needs to end in an E.
I rolled my eyes and fell back on the bed, holding my phone above me.
Well THAT could’ve been helpful information. If you know two letters, why’d you only give me one?
Didn’t want to make it too easy for you. Would’ve been impressed you got it with just the T.
I smiled. It felt good.
Really good.
Give me a sec. Putting my thinking cap on. Something a runner might break—starts with a T and ends in an E, right?
Yep.
I lowered my phone and blinked up at the ceiling.
My mind was stuck in the human anatomy, which wasn’t surprising considering my profession and how many hours a week I typically spent viewing images of bones. But I knew if this was a crossword puzzle clue, and I was fairly certain it was, the answer wouldn’t be obvious because they rarely ever were, and the clue would need to be looked at from a different angle, not taken literally like I was doing.
I looked at it from that different angle while filling Brian in.
Turning my thinking cap around. Things just got serious.
Whatever works. Mind if I ask you a question while you get serious?
I flipped onto my stomach, propped myself up on my elbows, and bent my knees, swinging my legs alternatively.
Shoot.
You married?
My legs stopped swinging.
Now, this was usually not a question I had difficulty answering. Up until two days ago I wouldn’t have needed time to think before giving my automated response over the past six years, that being yes, but now I was having difficulty answering one of the simplest questions to answer, no matter who you were.
One was either married, or you weren’t, right?
I didn’t want to say I was married, because I didn’t feel like I was anymore, but I didn’t want to say I wasn’t because that felt final. Conclusive.
So I gave the only answer I felt comfortable giving.
Separated. As of two days ago.
Shit.
I wasn’t sure what he meant by that response, if he was disappointed or felt sorry for me, but I didn’t have much time to think on it as his next message came rapidly through.
Sorry to hear that. How you doing with it? You hanging in?
Hanging in.
Was I? Is that what I was doing?
Well, I cussed out a stranger two days ago right after my husband told me he wanted out, and today I dyed my hair red.
Red?
It’s my natural color. I was blond. I needed to do something radical.
Something Wild, I thought.
Red is definitely radical. Pictured you with dark hair.
He pictured me, what I looked like.
The flip and twist happened again.
It’s a dark red.
I bit my lip and started swinging my legs again, thinking it was weird I felt inclined to inform Brian what he was picturing wasn’t far off from what I actually looked like, then pushing that weirdness aside and focusing instead on the lingering sensation warming my belly.
It was a really nice feeling, and one I wanted to focus on.
Is it ok I’m talking to you like this?
I knew what he was asking. Our topics of discussion ranged from me wanting to chop off his penis to how either of us felt about dildos. Not exactly topics a woman recently separated, very recently separated, should be engaging in with a man who wasn’t her estranged husband, especially if there was any hope for reconciliation and I honestly wasn’t sure there was but I hadn’t ruled that out, though estranged or not, I’m not sure I’d ever felt the desire to chop off Marcus’s penis before and expressed that to him.
Actually, no, that was a lie. Two days ago I’m sure I could’ve expressed that to him.
Still, I didn’t think this was wrong. It didn’t feel wrong.
I was smiling. And that could never be a wrong thing. I was sure of it.
It’s ok.
If I called, you’d answer?
Yes.
Good to know.
Can I ask why you want to talk to me?
This was something I had been curious about yesterday when Brian texted me after my interview with Nate.
I knew how I felt about it, but I had no idea why he wanted anything to do with me after everything I’d said to him. I clearly had baggage, plus my life was a bit of a mess. I didn’t think I had anything to offer.