Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
“No. No. Kill it with fire,” I grumbled as the shrill sound of my phone ringing pierced through the air some amount of hours later.
I fumbled for it on my nightstand, and as I blinked my eyes open I realized the sun had already come up, and clearly, Tris and I had slept in. When I looked at the clock it was already nine in the morning, way later than I usually slept.
Tristan’s warm weight was still behind me, and there was nothing more I wanted than to silence my phone, turn over, and stay here in the bed next to him.
“Who is it?” he asked, still half-asleep.
“Shit,” I said. “It’s Marjory.”
Tris groaned, rolling over in bed as I swung my legs over the side, answering the phone. Marjory was a regional supplier for all sorts of materials I ordered for every project I worked on.
“Jack,” she said. “How’s your morning going?”
“Slowly,” I said.
She laughed. “Well, it’s about to get a lot better.” Marjory was used to me being up and ready by six in the morning or earlier, so she sounded as surprised as I was that I wasn’t firing on all cylinders yet.
“What have we got? Did the Dietermans finally get back to us with those invoices? Because Hallelujah, if so.”
“Even better,” Marjory said. I cradled the phone by my ear, turning to glance at Tristan. He was lounging in bed, his shirt riding up just enough that I could see the jut of his hips, the edge of one of his hummingbird tattoos peeking out below the hem. I made a mental note to go lick him there after the phone call.
“Lay it on me.”
“I just got off a long phone call with an old friend. Her name’s Sheila Bainbridge, and she’s looking to build, from the ground up, a home that she can retire in. She wants to do it in Greenvale because it’s where she grew up, but she’s been splitting her time between New York City and Paris for the last forty years, earning a fortune.”
“Sheesh,” I said.
“No kidding,” Marjory told me. “Jack, what I’m trying to get at is that Sheila is filthy rich. She’s not just looking to build a stock home here. She wants full custom. She’s consulting with this ritzy architect. Luxury details. Three stories, a guest house, a finished basement, hell, she was even talking about a tennis court at one point—”
A knot had started growing in my stomach. “A big project,” I said, clearing my throat.
“The biggest project we’ve ever taken on,” Marjory said, excitement in her voice. “A project like this is a year’s worth of work for you, easy, and it’d be great for me, too. Maybe even more. All right here in a nearby town. Isn’t this amazing?”
The knot in my stomach was more like a damned twisting braid, now. “It’s great,” I managed to say. “Thank you for letting me know, Marj.”
“We’ll talk more when you’re back at it tomorrow, of course. Hope your trip went well.”
I swallowed. “It was… life-changing,” I said.
Marjory let out a laugh. “Well, I’m glad to hear it. I’ll see you tomorrow, Jack. Can’t wait.”
“Bye, now.”
I hung up the phone and pulled in a long breath, turning back to Tristan again.
“Sounded like she had good news?” he asked.
“Massive home build project,” I said. “Over a year’s worth of work, if we agree. I’d be dumb not to take it.”
Something flickered in Tristan’s eyes. “Here in Kansas?” he asked, though I knew he already knew the answer to that.
“Here in Kansas.”
There was a silence between us, and it felt like the silence said more than either one of us could have in that moment. I knew what Tris was thinking, because I was thinking it too. We were back to reality, now. Of course I had work lined up here in Kansas. And Dad’s house. And responsibilities galore.
Of course I was going to stay here, where I’d always been.
And I wished so badly that it didn’t hurt to imagine it, now.
Here, in the light of morning, it felt crazy to even think about moving to Colorado. But while we’d been there, the fantasy had been so alluring, even I had started to entertain it as reality.
“Yeah,” Tris finally said, looking down at the sheets. “I guess you’d be dumb not to take it.”
My heart felt as weighty as an anchor. Reality also meant that in just a few more weeks, Tristan would be taking off, starting a new life.
Sometimes you’ve got to do shit you don’t want to do, my dad used to say to me as a kid, all of the time. You man up and do it anyway. At the time I hadn’t liked when he said it, but those old words played through my head now.
Moving to Colorado was the best thing for Tristan. And I had to get my head out of fantasy-land, be an adult, and support him, even if the obvious sensible thing was for me to stay right here where I was from.