Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
“Maman,” I say in French, walking to her and bending to kiss her cheeks and give her a hug.
“Mon beau garçon.” My handsome boy, she says. “Comment vas-tu?” How are you? She smiles up at me. Her dark-blue eyes light up when she puts her hand on my chest. “Ça va bien oui?” It’s going good, right?
“Oui. Ça va.” It’s good, I tell her.
“Tu as l'air fatigué.” You look tired, she tells me.
“I’m good,” I reply, avoiding looking in her eyes. Something about being a parent, they know right away when something is amiss. It used to always amaze me when it happened. “Have you met Jenna?” I ask her, looking toward Jenna to change her thoughts.
“Bien sûre.” Of course, she says and puts on her fake smile. Trust me, I know her fake smile. Once, when I was ten or twelve, she threatened to beat my ass in French with a smile on her face, and everyone thought she was praising me. She was not.
“Who is ready for a drink?” my uncle Matthew says, clapping me on the shoulder. “You look like you need a drink,” he tells me.
“What is wrong with everyone? I’m fine,” I retort, as everyone slowly makes their way out. As soon as I step out in the sun, I look around to see if I can spot Addison. “I’ll be right back,” I say and don’t even wait until anyone says anything, and by anyone, I mean Jenna.
I walk toward the barn, hoping like fuck she doesn’t follow me. I’m about to take a step into the barn when my phone beeps in my pocket. Grabbing it and bringing it out, I see an email come in.
I read the tagline as requested and put the phone back in my pocket. I walk into the barn and see a couple of people running around. My eyes roam around the room as I spot her in the corner telling someone something. She points at something and the man just smiles at her. She laughs as he turns and walks away, and I have to clench my hands into fists before I walk to her.
“Addison,” I call her name loud enough for her to hear me. She turns her head toward me, the smile on her face fading as I close the distance between us. She takes a second to look around before she puts her shoulders back.
“Can I help you with something?” she asks me, not walking away from me. The minute I get in front of her, the smell of her brings back all of the memories of that night. As I look at her, I can’t help but think my memories of her are way off base because she is even better than I remembered.
Oh, you can help me with something all right, my head screams as I take her in. Her blond hair is definitely longer than it was the last time. Her brown eyes are also a touch darker than they were. “Can you help me with something?” It comes out harsher than I want it to.
She looks around me and I can see her eyes are doing a scan of the room, nervously. Even her hands begin to shake. “I’m here for work,” she says softly. “I need this job.” The way she says those words, I have to think there is something behind it. It is said with an almost desperation in her voice. I count to ten while I think of what she said, letting her words sit before anything.
I hear voices coming even closer. “Okay, then, how is tomorrow?” I ask her. I don’t know if I’m asking her because regardless of what she says, we are going to have a sit-down tomorrow.
“Um, I guess,” she responds, wringing her hands before she walks over to a side table and picks up her phone. “What’s your number?” she asks me, looking down at the phone the whole time.
I take my phone out of my pocket and press my code to open it. Once it’s open, I click the email icon. I open the email I got before I walked in here. I press the phone number in the email. The phone rings in her hand. “What? How?” she asks shocked, pressing the decline button.
“It’s what I do,” I inform her. “Now, my place or your place?” Even though I don’t have a “my place” right now, but I’m hoping she says her place.
“No,” she snaps. Her voice goes a bit too loud, and heads turn to look our way. “Neither.”
“Fine, we’ll meet at a neutral space,” I tell her, not wanting her to get in trouble or lose her job.
“I leave tomorrow to go back home,” she says softly, her voice almost in a whisper.
“I’ll text you, and we can see where we can meet.” I stare at her in the eyes, the same eyes I got lost in that one night.