Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
She looked flabbergasted by the offer. “Deacon, that’s very sweet of you, but please don’t worry about me.”
I nodded to the open door.
She seemed frustrated by the offer, as if she wasn’t allowed to accept generosity from her clients, but she also seemed touched, as if it meant a lot to her that someone wanted to help her out for once. And she still seemed tired, judging from the dullness in her eyes.
“It’s late. You shouldn’t walk.”
She sighed as she held her bag, but then she gave in. “Well…thank you.” She walked up to the door, her face close to mine. She looked at me for a few seconds before she got into the car, putting the bag beside her. I stared at her for a moment, seeing the slight smile on her lips. Then I shut the door, the blacked-out windows obscuring her from my view. I moved a few steps back and watched the driver find a spot in traffic to emerge. Thirty seconds later, the car was gone from my sight, and then I finally turned around and went home.
I walked in the door and headed to the dining table, pulling my satchel over my shoulder and setting it on the wood.
Tucker came out of the kitchen, shirtless and in his sweatpants. “I’m making enchiladas. You want any?”
“No.” I pulled my laptop out of the leather bag and set it in front of my chair. “I’ll take a beer, though.”
He grabbed one from the fridge and placed it on the table, the cap twisted off. “Have you ever had enchiladas? They’re pretty good.”
“I don’t eat cheese.”
He rolled his eyes. “So, you’re a vegan or what?”
“No. I just don’t like processed foods.” I was in a shirt and jeans, not having to wear a suit this week because I was in the lab every day. I took a seat and downed the beer.
“Alright…” Tucker returned to the kitchen, finishing his dinner. Then he came out and took a seat with his plate of enchiladas and rice and beans.
I’d prefer if he didn’t eat right beside me when I tried to work, but it was the dining room, so I couldn’t berate him for that. Lately, I’d been drowning at work, unable to handle all my projects at the same time. The simple solution would be to hand them off to someone else, but I didn’t trust anyone besides myself.
“Found an apartment.” He pulled out his phone, opened the link, and placed the phone in front of me. “It’s no luxury residence, but it’s pretty nice.”
I ignored the phone. “When are you moving?”
He pulled the phone back. “Monday.”
I opened my documents on my computer.
“You could at least pretend to be sad.”
But I wasn’t sad.
“It’s only a few blocks from here, so we’ll be close to each other.”
“Great.”
He ate his enchiladas, using his fork to slice through the corn tortillas and get to the chickened smothered in cheese. “I saw Cleo yesterday. She’s pretty cool.”
My eyes shifted to him.
“I forgot my keys like an idiot, so she had to unlock the door for me. You were MIA. What happened to you anyway?”
“I had to work late.”
“Because?”
“Because of reasons you wouldn’t understand.”
He rolled his eyes. “We’ve got the same DNA. If you’re smart, then I’m probably a little smart too.”
No comparison. “That’s not how genetics works…”
He kept eating. “Anyway, she’s really cool. I told her we should go to Taco Bell together.”
Both of my eyebrows rose because I didn’t have a clue what that meant.
“Yes, she’s normal,” he said. “She doesn’t eat fish all day long.”
“I don’t eat fish all day long…”
“I showed her a picture of Derek. She thought he was the cutest guy on the planet.”
The mention of my son immediately made me sick, made my chest tighten in that way I didn’t like, but I was also touched by her compliment. “Yeah?”
“Said he looked just like you.”
He did look just like me.
“When’s he coming to visit anyway?” He spoke between bites.
I didn’t want to talk about my marital bullshit. I didn’t even want to think about it. “Not sure.”
“I miss that little guy.” My brother loved my son like his own, had developed a closeness the second he could walk. “And I can tell by her smile that she wants kids…and I want kids. So that’s a good sign.”
Now I didn’t look at my screen once. “You’ve seen her a few times, and now you want to have kids with her?”
“No. But I don’t want to waste my time on a woman who doesn’t want a family.”
“She never explicitly said that—”
“She likes kids,” he said quickly. “And that makes me like her more. That’s all I meant by that.” He shut me down before I ran my mouth with a million questions, because I couldn’t comprehend the assumptions he made sometimes. It was one of those social things I didn’t understand. Until someone explicitly stated a fact to me, I didn’t consider anything to be true.