Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 81843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
I’m in awe by the simple things that Mimi clearly misses—things I certainly take for granted. Fresh air. The sunshine on her face. The scent of a flower. Yet this woman, who is both opinionated and sweet, isn’t complaining.
The apple doesn’t fall far from that tree, it seems.
Maybe there is something I can do.
“Can I do anything for you, Mimi?”
She waves a bruised hand through the air. “Just keep an eye on my sweet girl.”
I stand, needing a bit of fresh air, too. I’m not sure what to make of this information. Helplessness is not something I do well.
“I need to get going, Mimi. I have a few appointments this morning.”
She looks at me and nods as if she’s sad to see me go.
I sigh. I can’t just leave her like this. “Can I give you my phone number? You know, just in case you ever need anything?”
She points at her crossword book and the pencil beside it. I take it and write my name and number on the inside of the front cover, then I place it back on the table. She gives me her number, and I add it to my phone.
“If you need anything, call me, okay?” I ask. “And I mean that. We’re friends now.”
“Thank you, Jason. It was nice meeting you.”
“You, too.”
A lock snapping and a door swinging open rings through the room. Mimi and I exchange a glance.
“Meems, I’m back,” Chloe says, her footsteps growing closer. “I found the—Jason?”
Her eyes are wide, her mouth open. She drops the small box in her hand.
I shove my hands in my pockets and don’t say a word.
I didn’t have a vision of how it would look when I saw Chloe, but this wouldn’t be it if I did. It would’ve been easier if she had answered the door or if she had been here when I came inside. At least we could’ve been surprised together.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, glancing quickly at her grandmother. She returns her attention to me as she picks up the box. “Please. Enlighten me.”
“I was worried. You didn’t return my calls or show up, and that’s not like you.”
She laughs nervously. “Yeah, well, sounds like someone has control issues to me.” She hands Mimi the box and then squares her shoulders to mine. “Let me walk you out.”
“It was nice meeting you, Mimi,” I say.
“And you’re calling her Mimi?” Chloe lifts a brow before turning to the front door. “I leave for twenty minutes …”
Mimi winks at me, entertained by the situation. Chloe, on the other hand, is not.
She ushers me into the hallway, letting the door slam behind her. A woman walking our way jumps at the sound.
“What the hell, Jason?”
She’s so hot when she’s pissed.
I smile at her, hoping for one back. That doesn’t happen.
“What are you doing here?” she asks with a hand on her narrow hip.
“Excuse me,” the woman says, reaching us. “Are you Chloe Goodman?”
Chloe blows out an exasperated breath. “Yes.”
“I have this for you.” She hands her an envelope. “Have a good day.”
“You, too,” Chloe mutters, ripping the envelope open. She unfolds a document. Her brows pull together as she reads it. “Oh my God.”
“What?”
She clenches her teeth together and folds the letter angrily. When her eyes meet mine, they’re filled with tears—angry ones, I think.
“Is everything all right?” I ask, my head spinning. Is this her life? One disaster after another?
“You know what? No. It’s not all right. But it will be.”
“Can I help?”
She sighs, rolling her head around her neck. “Thank you, Jason, but no. You can’t help. How did you even get my address?”
“Keisha.”
She makes a face to express her displeasure.
“Maybe I overstepped,” I say, holding my hands before me. “But you scared the shit out of me. What was I supposed to do?”
“Wait until I get in the office.” She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “You shouldn’t have come here.”
“Why?” Because you’re not used to people showing up for you?
“Because this … This is my life. It’s a very different world from Brewer Air. And when I’m at work, I’m not reminded of this. But now …” She groans, shrugging helplessly.
“But now what?”
I want to reach out and pull her into me, promising her everything will be all right. Because I could make it all right. I could fix all her problems easily, and it would please me so fucking much to do that for her. And for Mimi.
She won’t accept my help, though. As a matter of fact, I know she’d take it as an insult. She’s as prideful as her grandmother. That’s an endearing trait most of the time. But right now, it’s frustrating.
“You don’t want me here?” I ask.
I take in the fear in her eyes. The vulnerability. It rips my heart into pieces.
She deserves to have someone protect her—love her. Help her. Cheer her on. Why can’t that be me?