Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
“See you later, Petrov,” I hear Brock, our captain, say as he gets into the truck beside me. I lift my hand as I unlock my doors. Pressing the trunk button, I also toss in my bag with my backpack. I get in the car and make my way over to my house, seeing Helena’s car in the driveway when I get there. We’ve been together for a while and moving in would have been the obvious choice, but to be honest, I never asked her to move in. That and our busy schedule keeps us from even discussing it. She’s also on the road with her pharmaceutical sales job. She works primarily with spas and salons for all cosmetic aspects.
I’m assuming, once we get married, she is going to be moving in, but she hasn’t even brought it up. The only thing she really has at my house is a toothbrush and maybe some shampoo. Whenever she comes over, she always brings an overnight bag, and when she leaves, so does the bag.
I don’t know why, but I’m irritated that she is here right now. After four days on the road, all I wanted was to unwind. I press the button to open the garage door, driving in and parking the car. Turning the car off, I get out and grab my stuff before walking over to the stairs leading to the mudroom. I press the garage door before I walk into the house. I see that Helena’s shoes and purse sit on the gray bench. I kick off my dress shoes and put them to the side before walking into the kitchen.
Helena sits on one of the stools at the island and looks up when she hears me walk in. “Hi.” She smiles at me, not getting up or coming to me.
“Hey,” I greet, walking past her with my bags. “I didn’t know you would be here.”
She looks at me as I walk past her. “I was in the area and figured I’d come work here a bit.”
“Cool,” I say, and I don’t know why it feels fucking awkward. When did it start feeling awkward? Was it always like this? Did I always get irritated when she came over?
I walk past the family room and toward the stairs, making my way to my bedroom. I open one of the double doors before stepping inside and seeing the drapes are open. When I bought this house, it had five bedrooms and I didn’t see the need for all the bedrooms, so I combined two bedrooms to make one massive one. There are six windows across the whole back wall with a sitting area right in front of it with a U-shaped couch I don’t really use. It faces the brick wall that has a fireplace on the bottom and television on top of it. The king-size bed is against the back wall facing everything. Walking onto the plush carpet, I go to the end of the room where the walk-in closet is. I dump my bags there before I shrug off my suit jacket. Unbuttoning the white dress shirt, I pull it out of my pants. I quickly slip into basketball shorts before walking downstairs.
I can hear Helena’s voice as I make my way into the kitchen, going straight over to the fridge. “Tuesday would be amazing,” she says and then I look over as I open a bottle of Gatorade, leaning on the counter behind me. A soon as she puts her phone down, the doorbell rings.
“The food is here.” She gets off the stool and walks over to the front door. She is wearing tight black jeans and a knitted shirt, and I wait for my dick to wake up, but nothing happens. I must be really fucking tired, I think to myself at the same time that my head laughs at me.
She walks back in with two brown carry-out bags. “I ordered you a couple of things since I didn’t know how hungry you were,” she explains, putting the bags on the island as she takes out the black to-go containers. “I got you chicken and also steak,” she says, and I turn to grab two forks and knives before walking over beside her. “I got you a baked potato and also some asparagus.”
“Thank you.” I stand beside her and look at her smiling. She grabs her two black containers as she walks over to where she was sitting, pushing her computer to the side. I pull the stool out beside her, sitting down, and opening my own containers.
“So how was the flight?” she asks as I cut a piece of steak.
“Short, thank God,” I answer, looking over at her. It dawns on me that she didn’t kiss me hello, but then I didn’t kiss her hello either. Have we gone into a room before without kissing each other?