Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“Because you don’t have one?”
He chuckles. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Not really. I’m more concerned about Betty. She has five kids, and—”
“Five kids is a legitimate concern.” He whistles while ladling chili into his bowl.
“Is it possible that you dated Betty, and you just don’t remember? After all, it was ten years ago.”
“Absolutely not. I keep a scrapbook of all my dates. Photos, cocktail napkins from bars, bullet-pointed details, and a few locks of hair.” Fitz takes a seat at the counter and blows at the swirling steam.
He’s a freak. I thought Will and Maren were joking, as friends do, about Fitz needing a minor fixing.
He glances up from his soup. “Christ, Jaymes. You can’t think I’m serious.”
“You’re an asshole.” I tug the fridge door, fetching my half bottle of wine.
He lifts an eyebrow just before taking a cautious bite of chili, chewing slowly for several seconds. “What does Betty need? Are you coming to me for money?”
I allow myself a generous glass of wine since I’m stuck here alone with Fitz. “Depends.” I take a healthy gulp of the riesling. “If one of her kids is yours, I think you should pay child support and offer to take your kid for a few nights a week.”
Fitz’s lips part, and a small drop of chili dribbles from them. He doesn’t blink. I’m not sure he’s breathing.
“She has five kids from four men. Perhaps you’re one of them.”
Finally, he blinks and wipes his hand across his messy chin. “Jaymes, did you hit your head?”
I set my wineglass on the counter across from his bowl and rest my arms beside it. “You mean to tell me that you’ve never had a one-night stand with a woman? There’s no chance that you’ve unknowingly impregnated someone? Do you keep condom wrappers in your scrapbook as well?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. I keep the whole goddamn condom—sperm and all. I count each one of those little fuckers to make sure one didn’t get away.”
“Stop.” I snort, covering my nose and mouth to keep from spewing my wine.
Fitz does his best to hide his grin while he shovels more chili past his lips. I retrieve the remaining quarter of a baguette from my designated pantry. It’s stale. I break off a chunk, dip it into the pot of chili, and pop it into my mouth.
“Did you seriously just dip your bread into my chili?”
I glance over my shoulder and shrug, quickly chewing. “Will said we share condiments.”
His nose wrinkles. It’s kind of cute. “Chili’s not a condiment.”
“It is if you dip bread into it.” I shamelessly dunk a second chunk of bread into the pot. “Or if you pour it over a baked potato or hot dog.”
“You’re never going to make it past the thirty-day trial.”
I tear off another piece of bread. “Thirty-day trial?”
“It’s in your rental contract. It’s in all of our contracts. The six-month lease is contingent on a no-fault thirty-day trial. If you don’t like it here, you can leave in the first thirty days without forfeiting your security deposit. And if any of your roommates don’t feel like you’re a good fit, the six-month contract ends on day thirty.”
Shit.
I read the agreement—sort of. It seemed pretty standard. If I read about a thirty-day trial, it didn’t stand out to me because why wouldn’t my roommates like me?
While chewing on this new information, I ease the lid onto the pot of chili and clear my throat. “I’ll replace your chili.”
“How will you do that when you don’t know my secret ingredients? It’s a family recipe, and I’m not sharing it.”
I find a ten in my purse and toss it on the counter beside his bowl. “Are we good?”
“Ten dollars? Really?” Fitz grunts before tipping his bowl and scraping the last soggy crackers into his spoon.
“I didn’t eat even a dollar’s worth of your chili.” I cross my arms.
He licks his lips after the last bite. “If you truly believe that, what are the other nine dollars for? Are you trying to bribe me into not voting to kick you out? It’s going to take more than nine dollars.” Fitz carries his bowl to the sink.
By the time he rinses it and turns, I’m in his personal space, eyes narrowed at him. “If I find out there’s no thirty-day trial in my rental agreement, I’m going to tell Betty that you remember her, and you specifically remember not wearing a condom. And ever since that night, you’ve secretly pined for her.”
He tucks his fingers in his back pockets. “You’re going to lie to your friend?”
“I don’t know, Calvin. Am I going to find anything about a thirty-day trial in my rental agreement, or did you lie to me?” My head tilts to the side.
He scratches his scruffy jaw. “What does Betty look like?”