Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Fuck being here for the official reading of the will. I’ll attend via Zoom from my apartment in New York and deal with the rest of the estate issues remotely or during shorter, weekend trips to Maine.
I should have known better than to think I could make it through three to four weeks in this place. I wouldn’t stay three or four more minutes if Sully weren’t here.
As if summoned by my thoughts, my focus is suddenly drawn to a wavy blond ponytail bouncing down the street. I tap the brakes, waiting until the ponytail emerges from behind a pickup truck, to affirm that is indeed, Sully.
My heart squeezes tight.
She looks exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes and no makeup on. She also looks…sad.
Or angry?
I can’t read her expression before she reaches the door to the Sweet Pussy Café and swings inside.
But that’s okay. I know where she is now. I’ll find out what she’s feeling for myself.
I pull into a parking space farther down the block and start back toward the café, skin buzzing with an unfamiliar sensation I can’t place. About ten feet from the entrance, I realize it’s anxiety, and exhale a soft huff of laughter.
If only my work colleagues could see me now: Weaver Tripp, the Ice King of Wall Street with sweating palms and a racing pulse. I’m famous for keeping a cool head, even when protestors set fire to the elevator shaft in our building and we had to evacuate down twenty-six flights of stairs.
But then, I’ve never had this much to lose.
As I push through the door, my heart slamming against my ribs, I’m struck by the realization that work isn’t as important to me as I’ve always thought it was. Neither is status or reputation or all the beautiful things I’ve accumulated after years of professional success. They’re all nothing compared to her, the most beautiful person I’ve ever known.
Even in a pair of gray sweats and a baggy white sweater, with one arm in a sling and her hair pulled back, she’s stunning. I step into the cinnamon and butter scented air and even though the café is hopping this Sunday morning, all I can see is her.
She’s seated at the small blue couch in the cat-friendly part of the café, a paper coffee cup clutched in her good hand and a fat gray cat curled up against her with a paw on her thigh, as if to tell her that everything will be okay. She’s sad now, but she won’t be sad forever.
She won’t be sad for another ten minutes if I have anything to say about it, cat, I think as I stride across the room.
Almost instantly, Sully looks up from the carpet, the sadness on her face morphing into a mixture of anger and betrayal that slows my steps.
I lift my hands at my sides, but before I can speak, she sets her coffee down on the table in front of her and jabs a finger at my face. “Don’t. Go away. Just…go away. I can’t deal with you right now. I have enough on my plate.”
I spread my fingers wide. “You don’t have to deal with me. I’m perfectly capable of dealing with myself, but we do need to talk.”
She shakes her head, rage burning in her eyes even as they begin to shine. “No, we don’t. I need caffeine in my system, and then I need to get back to the hospital to see Gramps before morning visitor hours are over. That’s all I need to do right now.”
“I’ll drive you,” I offer. “We can talk on the way.”
She exhales a sharp breath. “Are you hard of hearing? I said I don’t want to talk to you right now. Honestly, I’d be good with never talking to you again.”
“Why?” I ask, my own temper smoldering to life. “What on earth have I done except do my best to support you? You could have at least texted to let me know you were okay and wouldn’t be joining me at the hotel.”
“Sorry, I was too busy learning you put my cousin in jail for trespassing on your boat, even though Mark was the one who invited him on board.”
My brows shoot up and hope whispers through my blood, cooling my anger. “Is that what he told you? That isn’t what happened, Sully. I arrived to find your cousin and several other people pouring beer over everything, carving up the deck, and ripping open the furniture. I didn’t go below, but the sheriff’s deputy who came to the scene last night, documented extensive damage to the furniture down there, as well. They did tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of damage.”
She blinks, her gaze darting over my shoulder to where I’m sure the rest of the café is eavesdropping on our conversation, before she whispers, “I didn’t know that.”