Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“Really? I know he’s pissed about that crazy lady threatening to sue because of me, but I thought he’d gotten over that.”
“Jo!” Paul had spotted me. Standing in the hallway opening that led to his office, he jaw was clenched. He pointed behind himself. “My office. Now.”
Bruce gave me a pitying look, sliding the silverware to his side of the bar. “I’ll put these away for you.”
“Thanks.”
Sliding off the barstool, I couldn’t think about why Paul was so angry. He’d been angry about that one lady for a week, but that had faltered off at the beginning of this week.
Is it really because I was forty minutes late?
Being late wasn’t a norm for me. This was my first time being late.
When I got to his office, I refused to sit. I stood against the wall and crossed my arms over my chest.
He pointed to the chair across from his desk. “Sit.”
“I’ll stand.” This treatment because I was late one time? My teeth gritted against each other. Seriously?
“Sit.” He gentled his tone. “I’m not upset with you. I was worried.”
“What?”
He pointed to the chair again. “Please sit, Jo.”
“Fine.” Once I did, I asked, “What’s going on? Why were you worried?”
Instead of answering, he leaned back in his chair and watched his phone. So did I. Nothing happened.
“Uh, Paul—”
Then, it rang, and he grabbed it. Gripping it against his ear, he said, “Yeah. Yeah, she’s right here.” He held it out for me. “Some guy named Snark has been calling for the last twenty minutes.”
“Oh…shit.” I had no time to react. My fingers went numb as I took the phone. “Snark?”
“Where are you?”
“Uh…”
He’d called here.
He cut me off, “Never mind. Stay put. I’m coming to you.”
“Why? I mean, what happened?”
“They’re going after you. Have you not been watching the news?”
“No, I avoid the news. You know why.”
“Well, if you have a television nearby, turn it on. You don’t look like your old self, and thank goodness. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Wait by the back for me.”
Hanging up, I saw the television mounted in the corner of Paul’s office. “Can you turn that on for me?”
“You okay?”
I nodded.
I’d have to leave work, but I wanted to see what was going on first. Big boulders of lead lined the bottom of my stomach. They weren’t moving, just getting heavier and heavier. I knew what I was going to see, but when Paul turned on the television, I hadn’t been prepared.
I was looking back at myself, as Jordan Emory, not Jo Keen. The girl on the screen had long black hair. It was straight, no curl like what I wore now, and my cheekbones were sunk in. My face now was more filled out, but the old me still had a heart-shaped face with high cheekbones, and her eyes—I sucked in my breath. Thank God I had kept my brown contacts the entire time at the university. If anything would give me away, it would’ve been my old eyes.
When I saw my old reflection, my hand flattened against my stomach. I couldn’t make this go away. It had happened. Snark predicted it. They were going after me.
Paul murmured, “Gorgeous.”
“What?” I jumped, forgetting that he was there. My hand pressed even tighter. This wasn’t happening.
He lifted his remote to the television. “I always felt bad for her during the trial back then, but those eyes, though.”
“Eyes for the soul,” Edmund had whispered so many times to me.
I heard him once more. He was there again. His rank hot breath coated my face. I could feel him.
“Jo?”
“What?” My heart was trying to jump out of my chest.
Paul was frowning at me. “You’re damn near shaking like a leaf. What’s with you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “And who was that guy? He said it was urgent that he got ahold of you. You in trouble or something?”
Paul didn’t know.
He didn’t recognize me either.
Until that moment, I didn’t know that there were different layers of relief. I was feeling seven different shades of them at that moment. “Um.” I grabbed my arm, and he was right. It was trembling against my body. “I don’t feel good.”
“You’re never sick, and you’ve been sick twice in the same month.” He looked at me from head to toe, lingering on my middle section. The corner of his mouth twitched up, then back down. He was fighting from grinning. “Are you going to need maternity leave in the future?”
“No!” My hand was pressing against my stomach. I ripped it away now and wiped at some sweat on my forehead. “I don’t know. I’m not pregnant, I know that, but I don’t feel good. Maybe I have a stomach bug that won’t go away.”
“You sure you’re not pregnant? I need to know if you are. You have to apply ahead of time for maternity leave.”