Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 95311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Elliott felt a strange sensation in his stomach, something like worry. Or sadness. And under that, concern. What was going on with her? If at all possible, she looked even thinner than she had the week before. Her smudges under her eyes were darker. She was getting worse.
He was going to have to talk to her.
The idea sprang into his mind and his entire body felt overcome with dread. He wasn't the kind of man who was good at talking. That was for Tad. And James. Even with the best of intentions, his words often rushed out of him and sounded cruel and judgmental. And that wasn't something he could afford with someone who was obviously already in a fragile state.
He wanted to protect her from any more pain. It wasn't something he had ever done for a woman before. No one had ever pulled on the buried, primal male urge to care for a woman. It was strange to realize he was even capable of feeling that way.
"Hannah," he said, his voice softer than it usually was. She jumped at the sound of her name and turned around, an eyebrow raised in a way that reminded him of the Hannah he hired, not this strange shell of her standing in front of him. "I would like to talk to you about..."
"Is it very important?" Hannah broke in. She could sense a strangeness to EM then. A part of her picked up on his intention to talk about something she knew she didn't want to discuss with him. "I really have a lot of work to get back to." And probably another two dozen emails to delete. And a note or two to file away in a new decorative box since she had already filled the other to the brim.
Elliott felt taken aback by her brashness and shook his head without realizing it. But she quickly picked up on it, and he saw relief wash over her face. "I guess it can wait," he said. But for how long? How much longer could she hold on to the obviously thin thread of her sanity?
He knew he should have called her back. He should have sat her down and forced her to tell him what was going on. There was no question that she was very burdened and he wasn't sure exactly how long he had before she quit. Or worse.
But something about the look of gratitude she shot him when he didn't press her held him back.
She was still Hannah. She was still headstrong and proud and wanted to put forth a competent and efficient work persona, regardless of what was going on with her personally.
–
Hannah rushed home at five o'clock to grab the ticket the dry cleaner had given her the day before. How she had left it in her apartment was completely beyond her. She was never that absentminded. She told herself to relax. She had hours before the dry cleaner closed, but her frazzled nerves would never let her be calm about anything anymore.
Closing the door, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. It took her a second to realize how foreign her face had become. She looked drawn, her face pinched with the skin pulled tight over her prominent cheekbones. Her jaw, which to her had usually seemed a little soft, was cut sharp and jagged.
Of course her skin was still splotchy from crying earlier and her eyes were swollen.
When did she lose so much weight? She had never been the kind of woman who could easily drop fifteen pounds. Whenever she had tried diet changes and exercise in the past, it had been an absolute struggle to lose even a pound or two. But then there she was- looking like a coat hanger wearing her usual clothes and she hadn't even realized she lost that much weight. She knew her eating habits had been poor.
Stress had driven her to coffee as her main diet staple with the occasional granola bar when her stomach would twist in a painful way- reminding her that she hadn't eaten in more than twenty hours.
Hannah shook her head, making a mental note to pick up something to eat after the dry cleaners. Italian food full of carbs and cheese. Or something fried- mozzarella sticks. Dessert- decadent chocolate milk shakes or brownies. She needed to pack on some calories and put some weight back on.
She ran for the kitchen counter, greeting Ricky and grabbing the ticket from where she left it next to the coffee pot. As she turned, she noticed something white on the floor. Walking closer, she felt dread pulling her stomach into a fight fist. It was a letter. On the floor. In her apartment.
Bending forward, she picked it up with shaking hands and opened it.