Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
“Seeing you evoked a feeling of nostalgia, and it was an unexpected emotion considering how we ended.”
She frowns while taking her turn in the hot seat. “I wanted to reply to your texts and return your calls, but I was too,” she rubs her lips together and gazes out the window for a few seconds, “ashamed.”
“Ashamed?”
“Yeah. Well, I was many things.”
I start to respond, but I’m not sure what to say. “You need to rest. I can see that you’re exhausted. We can talk later. Have they told you when you’re going home?”
“The day after tomorrow.”
“I’d love to catch up and hear all about your heroic act. Where do you live? Or do you live with someone?” Such as her boyfriend who left to get dinner?
“I have a roommate.”
“A roommate. That’s … great. Would he or she mind if I stopped by to visit?”
After a long, distrusting pause, she shakes her head. “I suppose not, but …”
“Great. What’s uh…” I pull out my phone “…your address?”
Again, she hesitates before giving me her address.
“I’ll text you. Is your number still the same?” As soon as I say it, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Crap. I’m not sure I want to know that answer. I’ve enjoyed telling myself that you have a different phone number, and somewhere along the way, you lost mine.”
She averts her gaze.
“But I’m guessing you have the same number.” I blow out a long breath. “That’s fine. That’s cool. You win some; you lose some. Good luck with your surgery. We’ll talk soon.” I squeeze her hand.
She stares at my hand on hers. “It’s … weird seeing you,” she murmurs.
I don’t move my hand, even though I should. What if her boyfriend shows up? Has she told him about me? I highly doubt it. I’m the stray cat she ran over with her car and kept going without so much as a glance in her rearview mirror. I may be carrying a tiny grudge.
“Weird good or weird bad?” I ask.
“I don’t know yet.” She reclaims her hand and slips it under the blanket.
“Well, I think it’s good.” I end the conversation with a decided nod and exit before things get any more … weird.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
After one beer, I’m still not feeling confident about this assignment. After one beer, I feel like I should have told Robbie that interviewing Anna would be a conflict of interest.
However, after three beers, I think that Anna saving those two kids and their dog was fate—a cosmic event to bring us together.
And after four beers … I think about the day she straddled my face while enacting the sex scene from her book, and that’s when I decide it’s time to make my way from the hotel bar to my room and sleep it off before I do something stupid like text her a photo of my dick. Nothing says, “I’ve thought about you every day for the past three years,” quite like a phallus taken in portrait mode with the Vivid Cool filter.
I stare at the ceiling from my diagonal position on the bed and chuckle at my thoughts. Maybe my new motto should be: Don’t Drink, Drive, or Dick Pic. It’s as if I’ve forgotten the little nugget about her having a boyfriend. It’s as if I’ve forgotten that my purpose for being here is business, not personal.
The following day, Robbie wants an update.
Robbie: Did u get the story?
Eric: In the process
Robbie: What does that mean?
Eric: I need some extra time
Robbie: But ur getting the exclusive, right?
Eric: Probably
Robbie: What does probably mean? What’s the hold-up?
Eric: It’s requiring a bit more finesse than I initially anticipated
Eric: She had surgery today. Hoping to get to talk to her tomorrow
Robbie: Don’t blow this!
For the rest of the day, I evenly divide my time and mental energy between my past with Anna and the future—specifically, the physical state my father and house will be in when I return home.
The following morning my anticipation and anxiety hit a breaking point, so I text Anna.
Eric: Hey! You home? Can I stop by for a visit?
Anna: Anna’s sleeping. Who is this?
“Great,” I mumble, staring at my phone. That’s right … she has a boyfriend.
Eric: A friend
Eric: I told her I’d stop by today to chat. Please have her message me when she’s awake
Anna: ok
That was easier than I expected. Since she has the same phone, I have to assume I’m a name in her contacts. If she were my girlfriend, I wouldn’t be “ok” with some guy friend texting her to get together.
Over the next two hours, I search for other videos of Anna’s heroic rescue. Then she texts me that she’s awake, and I toss my computer aside and head to her house. The neighborhood is middle to upper-class. Anna’s doing well in her new job, or her boyfriend has nice housing perks.