Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
“What can I do for you, Fox?”
“You got one of those overnight envelopes?”
She reached down and grabbed one, slipping it across the counter. “We close in four minutes. Step over there while you fill it out so I can take the next person.”
I looked behind me, thinking someone had come in after me and I hadn’t heard them. Nope. Completely empty. Whatever. I moved to the little counter in the corner and picked up a chained pen. But when I put the point on the envelope to write, I realized I didn’t know Josie’s damn address.
Great. Just great.
I scrolled through my contacts until I got to Opal’s name and hit call. Her greeting was as warm as Frannie’s.
“What do you want?”
I shook my head. “Need Josie’s address in New York.”
“What for?”
“I brought what Josie wants shipped to her to the post office. Realized I didn’t have her address.”
“Why didn’t Porter bring it?”
I sighed. “Can I explain that to you another time? The post office closes in two minutes, and Frannie is not going to stay here three for me.”
“Fine. Give me a second. It’s in my purse, and I’m holding Ernestine at the vet’s office.”
She disappeared and came back on the line a minute later.
“It’s Two-twenty East Eighteenth Street. New York, New York, One-zero-zero-zero-three.”
“Thanks.”
I went to swipe off my phone and then thought better of it and lifted my cell back to my ear. “Opal?”
“What?”
It took a few heartbeats to choke out the words. “Is she really getting back together with Noah?”
There was a long pause, especially long for Opal who thought it was her duty to fill the air with words nonstop. Her voice was quiet when she finally answered. “Yes, she is.”
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
My chest squeezed so tight, I wondered if I was having a heart attack.
“Closing in thirty seconds,” Frannie yelled. “If you want to send something, get a move on, Cassidy.”
I swallowed and walked to the counter in a daze.
Frannie stared at me. “Well? Hand it over.”
I lifted the envelope to the counter and slid it over to her side. She went to take it, but I couldn’t seem to let go.
“You have to actually give me the envelope to ship it.”
I stared at her, or maybe through her, because I wasn’t actually seeing anything but my future disappear.
Frannie frowned. “Now or never, Cassidy.”
I blinked back to the moment. “You know what? On second thought, I’m going to deliver this myself.”
CHAPTER 37
* * *
Coming to His Senses
Josie
I reached for the light switch and turned back to look at the empty lab with a sigh. Had I ever been happy here? I’d thought I was at one time. But maybe I’d mistaken success for happiness. Lord knows my mother taught me they were one and the same.
I flicked the switch off and pulled the door shut. I’d been back a week now, and it hadn’t gotten any easier—not going to work, not going home to my empty apartment, not the ache in my heart. I took the elevator down to the ground floor and pushed through the turnstile door, dumping out onto the busy Manhattan street. As much as everyone being in your business in Laurel Lake could be a lot, there was something nice about walking around and everyone saying hello. I missed that. Here, I felt invisible.
The walk from my office to home was a little more than a half hour. Usually I hopped on the subway, but tonight I needed the fresh air. I stared down at the concrete like half the commuters, avoiding eye contact, lost in thought.
In the short time I’d stayed in Laurel Lake, it had become my home. Here all I had was four walls, brick, and beams. I’d lived in the same apartment for seven years and didn’t have half as many fond memories inside it as I did in the house on Rosewood Lane. Sure, a lot of those were with Fox. But I liked the me I’d become while living there. The me who appreciated the beauty of a sunset, spent time listening to stories told by my dad’s seventy-year-old friends, and planted in the dirt. The me who took on construction jobs—sure, at times I’d bitten off more than I could chew and needed help—but at least I bit. Here I didn’t bite into anything. I went to work. Came home to my overpriced apartment. Maybe went to dinner or drinks with a friend once or twice a week. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
Could I leave New York and make Laurel Lake my home? Or would it be too painful to be so close to the man next door?
Fox. Every time I thought about him, it felt like I’d gotten the wind knocked out of me. Like there was an emptiness in my chest that I yearned to fill.