Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 60131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 241(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
I knew it. “What?”
“I’d like to see my grandchildren while they’re still toddlers,” he said. “I never got the chance to hold you, so…My number is on the back of those test results, whenever you’ve had a chance to think about it.”
“Is something wrong with tonight?” My emotions spoke before I could think it through.
“Not at all.”
I motioned for him to follow me inside and onto the elevator. The mirrored glass reflected our resemblance even more.
“For the record, this means nothing,” I said. “You’re just a random stranger with an intriguing backstory.”
“Pierce is my middle name. I’m glad it’s your first.”
“Stop talking. We are not friends.”
“We’re family.” He smiled as the doors opened on my floor.
As I ushered him inside, I pulled out my phone, ready to tell Harlow all about this, but then I remembered why I couldn't.
She’s a liar…
FORTY-NINE
HARLOW
New York’s bleak and wintry weather was conspiring with Pierce Dawson to make my heartache ten times worse.
After the first week of my “breakup/firing,” I took the subway to Manhattan, suffering freezing toes with every ride, until I realized I didn’t need to travel that far for a coffee.
My world needed to rotate around its former axis in Brooklyn, but the grey skies and heavy snowfall never invited me further than two blocks. I had no choice but to commandeer my couch and surrender to YouTube, only leaving the cushions to grab delivery food.
So far this week, I’d learned that the sharpest knives were handcrafted in Japan, that over eighty percent of the ocean was still uncharted, and that Orca whales (not asshole billionaires) were at the top of the food chain.
If I sustained this pace for the rest of the year, I might be ready to compete on Jeopardy.
While I toggled between “How Hot Dog Buns are Really Made,” and “Siberian Husky Dog Sings During His Bath,” my phone sounded.
Sasha...
I’d ignored her calls and half-answered her texts since she’d been away, but it was beyond time to give in.
“Yeah?” I answered.
“Yeah?” She scoffed. “That’s how you answer after dodging me for weeks?”
“It’s only been one week, Sasha.”
“Tomorrow will make a month.”
“I…” I looked at my calendar in disbelief. “Sorry. I guess I’ve lost track of time since I’ve been so busy.”
“Busy doing what?”
“Research.” I grabbed my potato chips. “Did you ever hear that story about the lady who lived on the couch so long that her body started to fuse with the fabric?”
“Vaguely. Why?”
“Because I’ve decided to break her record, starting today.”
“Okay, that’s it.” She clucked her teeth. “I’m coming over there right after my flight lands this Sunday.”
“I’m not getting up to let you inside,” I said. “I have a mission.”
“I have a key.” She hung up.
I settled on “How Hot Dog Buns are Really Made,” but someone rang my doorbell in the middle of the yeast rising.
“Ugh, Sasha!” I yelled. “You should’ve just said you were outside!”
I tossed off the covers and rushed to open it, but it wasn’t Sasha.
It was Eric.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked him. “Actually, don’t answer that. I don’t care.”
“Well, hello to you, too, Harlow.” He smiled. “Can I come in for a second?”
“No.”
“It’s important. As one of your oldest friends—”
“We haven’t been friends since we broke up,” I said. “I opened the door because I made the mistake of not checking the peephole first.”
“Okay, I deserve that.” He nodded. “Well, look. I’ve been doing some soul-searching, and I wanted to let you know how wrong I was for not paying you your rate for all those custom cupcakes.”
I blinked, waiting for him to say more, but he just stood there.
“Okay, then…When you’re off to hell, I will mention this late apology to Satan, and maybe he’ll consider burning your body on medium heat.”
He laughed. “I’ve always loved your sarcasm.”
“Thanks.” I wasn’t in the mood for small talk. “Have a good day, Eric.”
“Don’t.” He stuck his hand between the frame before I could shut the door. “I severely underestimated how much work you put into everything. I mean it. Me and my fiancée can’t get a baker to look our way for less than six thousand for a single cake, and when we mention matching cupcakes, they double the price. It’s been quite an experience, to say the least.”
“Okay, I’ll suggest ‘simmering heat’ to Satan for you, but that’s as low as I’m willing to go.”
“I wrote you a heartfelt apology letter.” He ignored my comment. “Then I figured you’d prefer payment with a late fee.” He pulled an envelope from his pocket. “I am so sorry, and I hope there won’t be any hard feelings.”
I took the check from him, unsure of what to say.
“If you ever start taking orders between now and my wedding, though, me and my fiancée would love to hire you.”
“Hell no.”
“It was worth a try.” He smiled. “See you around, Harlow.”