Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“You were right. The lobster rolls were delicious.”
He signs the credit card slip and gets up. “We’ll be back.”
Those are three words packed with a lot of meaning. “Will we?” I want to ask but don’t.
We’re leaving the restaurant––Jordan is in the middle of strapping Maisie into the stroller––when an old man, not a day younger than eighty, approaches. He places a wrinkled hand on Jordan’s arm. Jordan scowls at first, but when he sees who’s trying to get his attention his expression softens.
“You have a beautiful family,” the man says. He smiles then, revealing the few teeth he has left. “You’re a very lucky man.”
The two of us stand there kind of stunned, dumbstruck, watching each other and not knowing how to react. Jordan gets that shut-down look I used to see on him all the time. But then it clears, and he smiles broadly back at the sweet old man. It’s warm and genuine and it bulldozes the last of my resistance. My heart’s been stolen by a repressed billionaire and his rare smiles and there’s nothing I can do about it.
“Very lucky,” he repeats. Over the man’s head, his gaze locked on mine. I don’t know what to think. I can’t read him right now. I know what my heart is saying but my heart doesn’t get a say in this. I love this man. I just don’t know how he feels about me.
“God bless,” our sweet messenger says and ambles away. He walks out of the restaurant and out of our lives as quickly as he shuffled in, leaving a wake of emotional destruction behind.
“What’s the address again?” I mutter, partially distracted by the houses on the street we’re driving down. They remind me of the old Kennedy home movies. Stately homes with sprawling green front lawns that face the ocean.
“Eli lives here?” I say with no shortage of disbelief. “What does the guy do for a living, print money?”
“Basically.”
“What?”
Jordan’s mouth kicks up on one side at my surprise. “Eli Noble––sound familiar?”
“The dystopian novels they made into a miniseries?”
“He’s also the heir to a frozen fish empire.”
How depressing. This conversation is bringing me down. “Is anyone you know not rich?” I ask him, struggling to keep the pathetic out of my voice.
In the familiar confines of his apartment it’s easy for me to forget that Jordan lives in another world, one far away from mine. Here, it’s impossible to ignore. Here, I’m forced to face reality. This trip is leaving me more deflated than ever.
We finally locate the house, a clapboard style white home with navy blue shutters. It’s big and grand and has a front lawn that goes on forever. What the actual eff? What is it with these people and their lawns? And who’s mowing them?
We follow the gravel driveway to the front door and find exactly who we were looking for all along…Eli.
His auburnish long hair is up in a bun, and his beard is unruly and frankly, gross. He’s dressed in a green tartan robe that’s flapping in the strong wind. It kicked up in the last half hour and has been gaining strength since. Every time the robe blows open, I get the honor of seeing his boxer shorts on full display, ones with Christmas trees on them.
“What’s he doing?” I absently murmur.
“He’s running a flag up the pole.”
Correction, he’s running the flag of one of the fictional countries in his books up the pole. I turn to Jordan who seems to be in accordance with me judging by his stern expression––this situation is dire.
“Look on the bright side––we found him,” I offer.
“I don’t know if there’s a bright side to be found here.”
Jordan parks the Audi and turns to me with a calculated look. “Wait here in the car for a bit.”
Okay, because that’s not weird.
“Why?”
“Because I’m asking you to.”
I don’t like it, but I do as he says anyway. This is his friend. He knows him better than anyone. He could be violent for all I know. Jordan gets out of the Audi and I roll down the window to hear what’s being said. Because, yeah, I’m not missing this for anything.
Eli, now finished with his flag, spots the car and suddenly becomes curious about his new visitors. As soon as he recognizes Jordan, he spreads his arms wide, which is equal to the arm span of a bear, and grins.
“Buddy!! JoJo!” Eli moves in for the hug and all hell breaks loose.
It wasn’t Eli I should’ve been worried about inciting violence. Heck, no––it’s Jordan. I hear, “Your daughter is allergic to peanuts you selfish son of a bitch.” And then he cold cocks the guy in the face. Lands one dead center on Eli’s perfect nose.
Who is this person I’ve been living with?
Eli’s head snaps back and an immediate look of shock appears on his face. He gingerly inspects his nose with his enormous bear paws. Pats around his face, around cheekbones that could cut glass. Once he’s determined his nose is still intact, Eli jumps on Jordan and before you know it, I’m watching a WWE match. Two grown ass men rolling around on the lawn.