Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 53629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
He shrugs. “Whatever you want to do. You still watch that one show?”
“I’m so far behind it’s not even funny,” I tell him and flop down next to him. It feels like it’s well past midnight but it’s not even close to being that late.
Silently, Robert finds the show and the next episode that hasn’t been marked watched. I’m six behind. I let out a small hum of satisfaction, one not too unlike the little sounds of glee from my baby girl next to me.
The oven beeps a moment later, coming up to temperature and I almost get up before realizing it’s not the timer. Five more minutes. My body feels heavier, finally resting.
“You don’t know how thankful I am,” I whisper to Robert, letting my cheek rest on the sofa.
A charming smirk lifts up his lips and he says, “I remember when Danielle had her little girl.” Danielle’s his cousin. “It can be rough at times, but it gets better.”
My lids feel so heavy.
“Dinner and sleep?” Robert asks me and I humph in opposition to the suggestion of sleep. “I’m not going to bed just yet and you don’t have to stay here.”
“Yeah, okay,” he answers with both humor and cockiness. I almost tell him I’m so grateful we’re still friends, but then flashes of some of these nights come back, and I don’t want to put the label of “friend” on it. Even if we don’t say it, we’re more than friends.
Even if no one knows and it’s a secret … it’s more than that to me and I’ve never been more grateful to have him in my life.
Brody
“She likes you,” Griffin comments when I glance at my phone again. He says it like I need to hear it. Raking his hand through his hair, he raises his brow and looks me dead in the eye wanting confirmation that I agree.
All he gets is a frustrated sigh. My gut instinct says she doesn’t. No matter what I do, I can’t shake that feeling.
Apparently unsatisfied with my silence, Griffin adds, “If she didn’t like you, she wouldn’t have said yes.”
The iron legs of the chair on the side patio of Charlie’s drag across the ground, scraping it as I lean back. A group of three women filter in through the small gate in the back. It’s almost lunch hour and judging by their skirts and flowy blouses, they got out early to beat the crowd.
That’s kind of the reason we’re here too. I have a lunch date with Magnolia and she suggested this place—of all places.
Our date started five minutes ago and instead of Griffin getting up to offer Magnolia a seat and tell her he was just heading out, he’s still here and I’m still tapping my fingers against the side of my phone, waiting for her.
“I’m getting mixed signals.” Damn, it sucks to say it out loud. But days have passed with only a few texts exchanged and a lunch date made. She’s barely said a word in all of that. She doesn’t initiate contact; she’s always late to reply. “I’ve never had this much trouble getting a woman to talk to me.”
“You sound like a girl.” His dismissive answer comes complete with the flip of the paperwork in his hands. It’s what we need to fill out to file for the last license. It’s already been submitted … twice.
That’s what I should be focused on. I didn’t spend the last few years to waste it all by not paying attention.
The cold beer is at odds with the warm air. At least there’s a breeze, though, with a touch of salt but it’s fresh. Every morning I breathe in deep and love the air here.
I tell Griffin exactly what I told myself this morning, “I don’t want to waste my time going after someone who isn’t after me.”
“Just have another drink.” Griffin’s comical irritation only makes me smirk at him.
“Another one?” The waitress pops her blond head out from the side door just then. Taking a look down at my beer glass, now empty, I have to admit she’s damn good at her job.
“Please,” I say, having to raise my voice just slightly to be heard. She nods, peers at Griffin and goes back inside without another word.
She knows I have someone else coming. I told her when she offered to take the menus since we weren’t eating.
With a click of the side button, 11:53 stares back at me on the phone. Quarter to noon is when we were supposed to meet … eight minutes past. Maybe she’s inside.
Griffin must know that I’m checking out the inside to see if she’s there and not out here, because he comments, “Inside seating doesn’t open until noon on the dot.”
His voice is flat as is the expression he gives me.