Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84627 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84627 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
I knock gently on his door, waiting for approval before opening his door.
My boss looks exhausted, shadows under his eyes when I step inside, but he also looks like the happiest man in the world.
“Fatherhood looks good on you, Dad,” I say as I sit across from him. “Except that.” I point to the stain on the shoulder of his shirt. It has to be spit up from the baby. He looks down, flicking at it with lazy fingers, missing it completely before looking back at me. This once completely put-together man doesn’t even seem bothered that another human has regurgitated on him.
“How was Texas?”
“Another shitshow.”
He nods as if he expected as much.
“I sent Leighton to the last appointment alone.” I leave out the fact that I used it to my advantage in order to get her to go with me on Saturday.
He doesn’t give me a hard time about liability because he trusts me.
“She said Sandra Halen is a horrible person and was actually surprised she made your list.”
“Hmm,” he says, nodding.
“I feel like you’re sending us on a wild goose chase.”
“There’s a reason for every meeting, Gaige.”
“And if you told me what the end game was, maybe we could get to it quicker without wasting our resources.” As I say the words, I realize I don’t want faster. Ending the traveling means bringing Leighton’s time with BBS to an end, and that’s the last damn thing I want.
“Just stick with the itinerary. Georgia is next. Maybe you’ll have better luck in the south.”
“Texas is in the south,” I argue.
“I’m giving everyone the day off tomorrow. Make sure Leighton knows. Keep me updated on how next week goes.”
I stand, knowing when I’ve been dismissed. I have no doubt he wants to get out of here quickly and get back to Anna and his son.
The breakroom is empty when I walk back through, but I settle in on the couch sure that someone will come wandering through, eventually. No one shows. Deacon walks through, telling me goodbye twenty minutes later.
Giving up, I head to the elevator. My BMW is waiting for me in the parking garage, and I have every intention of going home despite not wanting to be alone as I drive across town, but somehow I end up at Leighton’s hotel. I park, and as I climb out of my car, I tell myself I’ll just head into the bar for a drink. It’s the best in town after all. I’d never pick up a woman here. There’s just something dirty about hooking up with another woman after agreeing to sleeping with Leighton on a regular basis even though I’ve never done the regular sex thing with one person before.
I don’t head left in the lobby but angle my body right in the direction of the front desk. Flirting with the front desk clerk comes easily to me. Telling her that I want to surprise my sister for her birthday makes my stomach turn, but I doubt she’ll give me the information I want if I mention that she’s anything other than family. I could easily call Wren for Leighton’s room number, but he’s already too far into my business as it is. I’m honestly shocked I haven’t gotten texts about fucking this up with her already.
With her room number drilled in my head, I catch the elevator with an elderly couple who can’t seem to get enough distance between the two of them. If they could’ve caught separate cars, I think they’d both be happier. I know this isn’t how all marriages end up. My parents are happy. My grandfather died just as in love—if not more—with Lala than the day he married her. It saddens me to see it. They get off on the third floor, and I ride it up a couple of floors higher, slowly walking off on the fifth.
My feet are heavy as I inch toward room 526, wondering what I’m going to say to her. I could go with cheery and say that the weekend has started since Deacon has canceled the workday for everyone tomorrow. I could just kiss her the second she opens the door. I could tell her that I noticed her sad mood earlier and I’m here to make her forget it.
None of those seem right, but it doesn’t stop me from lifting my hand and knocking, but it does stop me from putting much force behind announcing my arrival.
Those same insidious thoughts about her thinking I’m turning into the clingy one hit me in the chest because if this isn’t proof of exactly that then I don’t know what is. I press my head to her door, feeling like a damn fool and wondering when the tables turned so drastically. When did I turn into the man who isn’t happy unless I am standing in front of her? When did things shift from wanting a different woman every night to needing only her skin brushing my fingertips?