Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 38053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 190(@200wpm)___ 152(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 190(@200wpm)___ 152(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
My mind goes blank. I blink. “Ethan,” I hear myself echo. “Ethan?” I say again as reality comes crashing back around me.
“I know that’s the name you’ve wanted forever. Stella posted how she loved the name Drake picked…” I no longer even hear my sister’s words.
“I have to go,” I say absentmindedly into the phone. I hang up and lean over, placing my hands on both knees. I suck in a deep lungful of air. I can’t believe this.
Memories surface of Drake and I talking about kids, well, me talking while he ignored everything I said, about what we’d name the kids. I remember telling him how I’ve always wanted to name a son Ethan. It’s after Ethan Hale, my favorite actor.
Tears swim in my eyes as I stand up tall, trying my best not to let the tears fall. I can’t believe Drake stole my name.
That makes everything worse. So much worse.
I keep walking, heading right to Deja Brew, and Jack is waiting for me outside. He doesn’t look like he’s the bearer of good news.
“I’ve got some bad news,” he says, and I nearly laugh.
“Lay it on me.” Seriously, this day can’t get any worse.
“Foundation’s got a crack in it.”
“Lovely.” I’m no longer even listening as he’s talking about permits and building foundations, and whatnot. I feel sick. “How much longer?” I interrupt him.
He chuckles, running a hand down his long face. “Um, as of right now, it’s indefinite.”
I’m nodding, and oh no, the tidal wave of tears erupts, and I’m full-on crying now.
Jack shifts on his feet, not sure how to handle a sobbing woman in the middle of Main Street. “Um,” he says, “I can call Mitch, and we can have an answer for you soon.” He pats my shoulder.
It’s awkward, and it makes me laugh a little.
“Thanks,” I say with another laugh. And now I can’t stop laughing.
Like, this is my life. Sobbing one minute and hysterically laughing the next.
Jack smiles, like his little pat on the shoulder solved everything. “See, you’ll feel better once we’re able to determine a course of action.”
I nod and keep on nodding. I’m having a full-on meltdown and Jack is witnessing it firsthand. He deserves a prize for keeping his cool.
Most men would say see ya if this happened with anyone else.
Drake would tell me to suck it up and pull myself together. Asshole. Why didn’t I see the signs while I was dating him?
What would Harrison do?
My racing heart calms for a moment as I think about Harrison’s kind brown eyes. The same color as coffee.
I love coffee.
Before I know it, the tears have stopped, and I no longer have the urge to laugh or cry at every word Jack says. A peace falls over me.
“Thanks, Jack.” I give him my best smile even though I’m not feeling very cheery.
Jack’s soft gray eyes look at me with something close to pity. “Sorry I don’t have better news.” He packs up his things, and tries to console me once again before he leaves.
I need to head home and put this day behind me. Wine. Hot bath. More wine. After I do a little light stalking of Drake and Stella’s social media accounts.
I need to see this baby Ethan for myself.
A few days later, I’m standing at the bottom of Harrison’s front porch steps. The house is not something I could have ever imagined a man like Harrison living in.
It’s huge. And has this quaint Southern charm about it.
Like an old plantation home without the plantation. The porch wraps around the entire house, and there’s two rocking chairs by the front doors. A large bay window is lit up, and I can almost see inside.
I take each step and knock on the green-trimmed wood door.
The door opens as if he’d been waiting for me on the other side.
“Hi,” Harrison says with a big smile, and all the heartbreak I’ve been dealing with the past couple of days moves to the back burner.
“Hi,” I say with a ridiculously large smile too.
“Come in,” he says, stepping aside so I can enter the home. “Dinner’s almost ready. Hope you like your filet medium rare.”
“I do.” I smile and step into the house, noticing all the pictures lining the front entrance. “Wow, are these you?” I point to a few of the pictures grouped near each other. There’s one of a boy on a bike, and another picture of the same boy on the baseball field. I stop in front of one picture and stare. “Oh my, is this…” I thumb at the picture of Harrison in high school, a crown atop his head. “Is this the prom king?”
Harrison laughs lightly and the sound of it makes my insides tingle. “Yes, this is prom.”
“You look very regal,” I say, looking at the girl at his side. “And the date?”