Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 81745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
“I need coffee,” she says before she turns around and looks at me. I sit on one of the brown cushioned stools at the counter as she sets a cup of coffee down in front of me and then grabs her own. She takes a sip and then smiles at me, and I can see that she is dying to tell me something, but I just don’t know what it is.
“Are you pregnant?” I ask her, taking a sip of coffee and waiting for it to finally seep into my veins and wake me up a little.
“I am not pregnant,” she says. “And I will not get pregnant unless I’m married.”
“You can still wear white down the aisle even if you have a kid.” I point at her. “It’s the twenty-first century.”
“Good to know,” she says and then leans back on the counter and puts her coffee cup down. “Now, let’s talk about last night.”
“Ugh.” I roll my eyes. “Can we not? I don’t even remember coming home.” I look around. “Like, how did I even get here?”
“I drove you home.” She fills me in. “You did the whole mic drop when we walked you into the door,” she reminds me, and the memories come flooding back. Well, some of them.
“You walked me into the house and didn’t think to help me change?” I shake my head. “Some friend you are.”
“You started singing ‘I am woman, hear me roar.’” She points at me, and another memory is put into place, and I laugh.
“That is always a good song. That and ‘No Scrubs.’” I take another sip of coffee. “God, how much did I drink at that event?”
She grabs her cup of coffee, and I can swear she is like a cat that ate the canary because she just looks at me. “I would say enough.”
“Why don’t they serve food at those events?” I ask her, and the doorbell rings. I look at her, and she just shrugs. “Well, you can’t expect me to get the door. I’m naked.” I use my hands to point at my robe.
She pushes off from the counter and walks to the door. I peek around the corner, seeing the man standing there with a huge bouquet. “How many?” I hear Candace ask, and then she gasps. “Fifty.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, handing her the bouquet, and she turns around and spots me standing here.
“You got flowers.” She holds up the huge bouquet of red roses that she has in her hands.
I clap my hands together. “Ohh, I love flowers. There must be at least two hundred in that,” I say. “I must have been pretty fucking outstanding to get that bouquet,” I say and then hear another knock on the door and see the man coming in with another one. “I must have drained that snake over and over.” I wink at her as he puts down the two and then walks back out. It takes him thirty minutes to unload the fifty bouquets that are now all over my house. Every single color of roses that are out there are now in my house. From white to red to black to blue to even rainbow. There is not one space left that doesn’t have flowers. “It smells like a flower shop in here.” I look at her, shocked.
“Who do you think they’re from?” she asks, and I shrug.
“I have no idea. I mean, to be honest, I haven’t been with anyone in the past couple of months.” I go from one to the other, looking for a card, and so does Candace.
“Found it,” she says and looks at me. “Can I read it?”
“I mean, I guess so. It’s not like you don’t know how awesome and amazing I am,” I say, looking around the house with my hands outstretched. “We also have to take a picture of this to show my future husband.” Candace's mouth drops open. “He obviously has to beat this if he’s going to marry me. God, Candace. I am shallow enough to admit I will throw this in his face, and we haven’t even met yet.” I shrug. “He has no idea that this will be brought up for the rest of his life.”
She shakes her head and opens the white envelope and takes out the card. “Here are twenty-five thousand reasons to go out with me. Can’t wait to cash in my voucher.” She falls forward, laughing hysterically.
“Cash in a voucher?” I ask, looking around. “Who the hell sent them?” I place my hands on my hips.
“Oh, this is too good,” she says, laughing. “I wish I could have this on video so you can see your face when I tell you.”
“Tell me what?” I ask with my hands in the air.
“Last night at the event …” she starts to say and stops talking, looking to see if I remember anything.