Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
I close the luggage and grab my phone. I don’t know if I should text him or not. I text him anyway.
Me: Thank you for the pizza.
I sit in bed, waiting for his reply. I try not to let it get to me when I know the game is over, yet he doesn’t answer me. When I finally turn off the lights, it’s after one a.m. and still nothing.
Nothing during my coffee, nothing while I’m waiting for my flight, and nothing when I land. It’s like he’s gone off the grid, and it bothers me. Or pisses me off. I’m not sure yet which one I am. I think I’m more aggravated.
When I’m standing there waiting for my luggage to come out, my phone finally rings.
“What,” I snap.
“Whoa there,” he says, laughing. “I take it that it wasn’t a good flight.”
“The flight was fine.” My tone doesn’t change, and then I’m too stubborn to even listen to myself. “Where have you been?’
“I’ve been at T-Mobile all day,” he says. “I kind of got a bit aggravated after the game last night. And well, apparently a concrete wall can totally win against an iPhone.” When he laughs, everything that I’ve been feeling is out the window. I’m not mad at him anymore or aggravated with him. I’m sad I’m not there to tell him that it’s just a game.
“It’s just a game,” I tell him softly, “and everyone has bad games.”
“I know that, sweet Zara,” he says softly. “I just … my head wasn’t in the game, and it should have been.”
“Well, what were you thinking about?” I ask him, my stomach tight and my heart speeding up.
“I was thinking about this strawberry blond, green-eyed sweet woman who has taken over all my thoughts,” he says softly, and I smile. “She has me tied up in knots, and I don’t know what to do about it.”
“Have you told her?” I ask him, spotting my bag and not even moving.
“I’m thinking about it,” he says. “I’m just scared that she isn’t ready for it yet.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” I say, and finally, all the stress from the day suddenly leaves me.
“I have to get my bag,” I tell him. “I’ll call you when I get to the hotel.”
“Okay, sweet Zara,” he says.
“If I were you, I would think about telling this girl how you feel,” I joke with him, and he laughs.
“I’ll keep that in mind, sweet Zara.” And I hang up to the sound of his laughter.
Between his games on the road and my clients and the different time zones, we’ve spoken maybe twice. Many texts going back and forth, and although I’ve decided to go to the casino night, and I even have a ticket and a hotel reservation, he hasn’t asked me about it.
I’m zipping up my bag when my phone rings, and I see it’s him. “Hello,” I answer and hold the phone with my shoulder while I get my other bag ready.
“Hey,” he says, and I can hear sleep in his voice. “Sorry I didn’t call earlier.”
“It’s okay,” I say, looking at the clock. “It’s ten a.m. there.”
“Yeah, I honestly am looking forward to not traveling for the next eight days,” he says. “What time is your flight?” he asks, and he doesn’t even ask if I’m coming or not.
“Eleven,” I tell him. “The car is picking me up in fifteen minutes.”
“Um,” he says, and he gets quiet. “Did you think about coming to see me?”
“I did,” I tell him, and then my phone beeps, telling me that my driver is downstairs, but also, he is trying to FaceTime me.
“Hey,” he says when his face finally fills the screen, and I know I should be walking out of my hotel room, but I just watch him.
“Hey,” I answer him.
“So?” he says, and I just watch him as he turns to his side in his bed.
“I land at 4 p.m. your time,” I tell him. He shoots up in bed, his eyes big and his smile huge. The sleep now gone from his features.
“You’re coming to Dallas?” he asks, his voice shrieking so much the dogs start barking and jumping in the bed.
“I’m coming to Dallas,” I say to him. “But if I don’t leave right now, I might miss my flight.”
“Text me all the details,” he says. “Why are you sitting down? Get up and get going.” I laugh when he says this and follow his lead. When I’m in the car, I text him all the details. He doesn’t call me before I take off nor do I see a text from him when I land either. I get out of my first class seat and grab my brown beige suede jacket and my black purse.
I look down at my outfit and wonder if it is good enough, if it is sexy enough. My tight black pants fit like a glove, and I paired it with a loose white V-neck silk shirt and my black Louboutins. My hair is hanging down loose, and I walk out of the plane and follow the signs to my luggage. Walking through the airport, I turn right and finally get on the escalator going toward the exit and the luggage.