Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Hell, it’s how Daniel and I fucking met.
Our lobby has the freshest and most exotic coffee blends, and he wasn’t afraid to take advantage of it.
One day he made me a cup.
Another he made me a cup and talked to me.
Few after that he made me a cup and came to talk to me in this very office. I had just become team lead after three years of busting my ass to prove I could do more than what they thought and being courted by evidently one of the most eligible, attractive surgeons from next door kind of became the cherry on top of it all.
I don’t regret marrying him so to speak, but I don’t think I ever really should’ve.
After having a sip of his beverage, he lets out a satisfied sigh. “This toasted coconut blend is amazing. Want a sip?”
“Never.”
Daniel shrugs it off and has another gulp before declaring, “So, I’ve come to a very important decision.”
For Cripes Sake, I hope it’s not another marriage proposal.
He can’t seriously think going Beyonce on every woman who’s willing to suck his dick on the golf course is a good idea.
“I am willing to fund someone in Hollywood to make a David Bowie biopic.”
His dramatic announcement receives an eye roll followed by a headshake. “Didn’t they already make one of those a couple years ago?”
“Did you see it?”
“No.”
“It was shit.” He indulges in another sip. “And I, as an avid fan, am willing to invest my hard-earned money into one that won’t be shit.”
Bracing myself for what I know is going to be a ramble of epic proportions, I lean over, open my mini fridge, and retrieve the plastic dish of cut apple slices and sunflower butter to snack on.
I love that Tate brings me over fresh apples from Applecourt at least twice a week. Wellborn and Pink Ladies are absolutely my favorite and his mother’s homemade sunflower seed butter – something new I discovered I liked, too – pairs so perfectly with them that some shifts I don’t eat anything else.
He also brings back plantains, but like Brussel sprouts, those haven’t grown on me.
Hm.
I wonder if maybe she’ll teach me how to make the sunflower seed butter someday so our kids can have healthy snacks.
“You see they keep making all of these other movies about other music icons,” Daniel passionately states, bringing my attention back away from kids with Tate, “like Bohemian Rhapsody and Rocketman and then TV shows like Selena – who had a movie in the 90s by the way – but yet probably the greatest artist of all time-”
“Subjective,” I mutter while pulling off the lid to the container.
“-can’t get the same level of love?” His pout receives a snicker on a bite of an apple. “Am I gonna have to make the damn thing myself?”
“Uh-huh, and while you’re out playing Baz Luhrmann who exactly is gonna be running your practice?”
My ex delivers a loud hum on a theatrical chin tap.
“Exactly.”
We share a small laugh that’s followed by a head toss my direction. “What were you working on?”
“Scheduling. Normal rounds, but it’s also getting close to time for a couple of us to renew our pilot’s license – self unfortunately included.”
Daniel offers me an overly warm grin. “Still the most incredible woman I’ve ever been with.”
“And I probably always will be as long as you keep banging scuba instructors and park rangers and mimes.”
“She wasn’t a mime,” he swiftly corrects. “She was an Interpretive Dancer.”
“Oh, so mime would’ve been an upgrade.”
More laughter escapes us prior to him segueing, “Speaking of women in my love life, I’ve got a date with a golf ball diver tomorrow night. Thoughts?”
“That you’re chasing something but don’t really know what, which is why you just keep filling the kingdom with any Cinderella who can squeeze her fat ass foot into the shoe.”
His chuckles are barely heard over my munching. “You sound like my therapist.”
“You know it’s probably cheaper to pay me to state the obvious instead.”
“And you’re better looking,” he adds on another chortle. “Every time I go into her office, it’s like getting lectured by the woman that plays Professor McGonagall in the HP franchise.”
This time I laugh with him nearly choking on the piece of apple I was starting to swallow.
All of a sudden, our humorous moment is cut short by unanticipated knocking on my door.
I quickly wipe my mouth with the back of my hand just in case there’s food on it and professionally call out, “Come in!”
The door opens just enough to reveal to me another unexpected face. Tate’s soft, almost coy smile is attached to his greeting, “Álainn.”
Blushing from the compliment seems to be the only thing I’m capable of.
Seriously.
Is there anything sweeter than being called beautiful in multiple languages?
Especially when you’ve been running yourself ragged for three days so you know you look more Cinderella scrubbing the floors versus the bitch in the gorgeous ballgown.