Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 95307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“You thought wrong. I have plans with my wife this evening that I don’t plan on breaking.”
“Surely, your wife,” she says it as if she has a bad taste in her mouth, “understands that you have a job to do.”
“She does. Gwen is very supportive of the gym, and my commitment to the gym. However, I am supportive of her and our baby and my commitment to them. I lost her because I didn’t have a good balance. I won’t let that happen again. I’ll sell this place first.”
“You can’t be serious.” She gives me a look that tells me she thinks I’m insane. Maybe I am, but I’m owning that shit.
“Very,” I confirm. I don’t know why I’m explaining myself to her. She works for me. I guess it’s my innate need to tell the world what Winnie and our baby mean to me.
“You’d just give all of this up?”
“You make it sound like this is the be-all end-all of life. Sure, I’ve worked my ass off to make All Fit what it is, but you have to understand something, life isn’t anything without her by my side. So, yes, Gina, if I have to choose between my wife or this gym, she wins every time. Hands down.”
“Are you going to propose?” she inquires.
“That’s none of your business, but since I love Gwen and couldn’t give a fuck who knows, yes, I am.”
“Oh.” She looks as if someone just kicked her puppy.
“Now, paint, let’s start there,” I say, not wanting to go any deeper into this conversation with her than I have to. We spend the next four hours going over paint and furniture.
“That’s good for today,” I say, glancing at my phone. “I’m heading out, we can wrap up the signage in the morning.”
“If we don’t get it ordered today, it’s going to add another week to the install.”
“Why would you not tell me that four hours ago?”
“You said you wanted to start with paint.” She shrugs.
“Fine. Since you failed to tell me all the necessary information when you knew I had to leave, you can handle pushing the opening back a week since we won’t have signage.”
“What? That’s going to take days.”
“Not my problem.”
“Harrison.” She stomps her foot like a child.
“Gina, you knew I was leaving, and I’m not staying because of your mistake. You fix it.”
“But you wanted to open in four weeks.”
“It’s a week,” I remind her. “Not the end of the world. We open when it’s ready.”
“But I have vendors scheduled, and refreshments ordered.”
“Reschedule them.”
“An hour tops,” she says.
“Not happening. I’ll see you in the morning. Oh, and I want a report by the end of the day tomorrow where we are with rescheduling everything.”
“What if I walk?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Are you?” I counter.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“We’re all replaceable, Gina. All of us. You want to walk? I’m not going to stop you.”
She steps close, too close. “You could let me go that easily?” she asks, her voice dropping low, almost as if she’s trying to be sexy. It might work for some guys, but not on me. She’s not my wife.
“Yes.” My one-word answer is not what she wanted to hear. I can see her eyes grow dark as anger takes hold. “If you’re here tomorrow morning, I’ll see you, if not, I’ll mail your last check.” I turn and walk away from her
“Harrison.” I hear her stomp her foot again. I don’t have the time or the energy to deal with her bullshit today. She’s running on thin ice. She interviewed well, and she’s a friend of Gabby’s, but I’ve had about all I can take.
“I told you I’m leaving at five. It’s three minutes after,” I call out, not bothering to turn and look at her.
“Fine,” she calls out. “See you in the morning.”
I wave over my shoulder and keep on walking. She can try to play games all she wants. It’s not going to work with me. The drive home is short, and as soon as I pull into the driveway, my mood brightens. I make a mental note to get the rest of my clothes from my apartment this weekend, and let it go. I’m exactly where I need to be. Climbing out of the truck, I make my way to the house, pushing open the front door. “Honey, I’m home!” I yell out.
I hear laughter, more than just Winnie’s, and I follow it. I find her and Gabby sitting at the kitchen island, Winnie’s laptop open between them. “How are my girls?” I ask, bending to kiss Winnie on the lips.
“Not your girl,” Gabby fires back.
“Good thing I wasn’t asking about you, now, was I?” I reach over and give her a one-armed hug, and she doesn’t protest—that’s progress.
“What?” she screeches. “You’re having a girl and didn’t tell me?”