Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 129460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
It is my secret.
My shame.
It is not a front-page story for every Tom, Dick, and Harry to read.
And I’ll take down anyone who believes differently.
Jess included.
CHAPTER 39
JESS
One of the great things about being a journalist is the ability to work from home. It is unusual being in your living room in the middle of the day, but it’s great for clearing the congestion in your head.
The weirdness that’s been impinging any gatherings I am a part of the past couple of days clears away enough for me to get down a thousand words on an article about the decolonization of ethnic groups for the past decade.
I didn’t even achieve twenty yesterday.
With my piece needing a lot of research, I’m deep into reports from one of the biggest humanitarian aid organizations in the world when a knock sounds at my door. I eye the battered wood curiously, not convinced the knock is for me.
I’m not usually home at this time, and the only deliveries I get are every Saturday, so who would be popping in at midday on a Thursday?
When the knock booms through the door for the second time, I place my laptop on the coffee table, lift my blue light reflecting glasses to the top of my head, then head for the door.
A floral scent smacks into me first. It is closely followed by a garlic-laced breath.
“Jessie?”
“Ah… yeah, that’s me.”
The nickname only one man calls me already has me on the backfoot, much less the bouquet of flowers the delivery man thrusts into my chest. “Can you sign here?” When I scribble my name across the single sheet of paper that exposes my gift-giver is Caleb, the delivery man hands me a gold embossed envelope, then stuffs his clipboard into his backpack. “Have a pleasant day.”
Even with my reply being short, my shock is still heard in it. “Thanks. You too.”
I place the large mix of pastel-colored flowers in a glass vase on my entryway table before tearing open the envelope with the savagery of a shark.
I’ve only read the first line of the invitation to a gala this weekend when a shuffling noise upstairs captures my attention. My neighbors shouldn’t be home. Caleb works the same hours as Octavia, and Octavia works more hours than the bosses at Seattle Socialites.
Well, she did until Jack took over the place.
She had no clue when they got down and dirty in an alleyway that he was our new billionaire boss. In a way, I’m glad. She might have clammed up if she realized, just like I most likely wouldn’t have kissed Caleb in the accessible bathroom if I knew he lived in my apartment block.
I’m still a little iffy about commitment, although you wouldn’t know that with how hard my heart pounds when a female voice breaks over the shuffling of feet from above.
With Octavia’s inquisitiveness rubbing off on me, I place the invitation next to the bouquet of flowers before climbing the stairs that separate my apartment from Caleb and Octavia’s.
“Tivy?” I query, my voice barely a whisper as I push open her partially opened door. Jack had the locks fixed first thing Monday, so it isn’t a case of the door popping back open from not being closed properly. Someone left it open.
With my hands held up protectively, I gingerly enter the residential space that is an exact replica of mine.
A near coronary is avoided when I recognize one of the voices projecting from the kitchen.
It’s Caleb.
My heart kicks out a brand new tune when the femininity of the second voice registers. Considering it is hitched with lusty excitement, I should immediately pivot on my heels and exit, but my grandmother has always said curiosity is a mind in search of knowledge.
I don’t discover knowledge in the kitchen, only brittle, painful jealousy.
Caleb is home, and he appears to be entertaining a guest. A busty blonde with long legs, immaculate teeth, and her own hair. The feeble quiver of her girlish laugh makes sense when I round the kitchen counter far enough the overhead cupboards stop blocking the view.
The buttons of Caleb’s crisp white shirt are undone, and his belt looks like it’s in the process of being removed.
I thought my groan would be internal, but I realize nothing comes simple for me when Caleb’s eyes snap to mine a second after it rumbles up my chest. “Jess…”
Now my legs decide to move, but regretfully, my storm out doesn’t see Caleb leaving his guest to fend for herself. He merely shouts my name a second time before his ‘friend’ tells him to let me go.
The fact she has more influence over him than my obvious upset is shocking, and it takes everything I have not to resort to violence when Caleb finally arrives at my apartment almost twenty minutes later.
He holds his hands in front of himself in the same manner I did minutes ago while cautiously approaching me. “That wasn’t as it seems—”