Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 75553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
She took a seat and crossed her legs delicately before pinning me with an unwavering and confident gaze. “I thought you might like to know that it’s Remy’s birthday next week. It’s on Wednesday,” she began. “You should do something nice for her.”
I faltered a little, intrigued by the news I’d just learned. “Right and why would you ask me to do that?”
“Well, even if you are only her fake boyfriend,” Shelley shot back with narrowed eyes, “it would look bad if you didn’t.”
I couldn’t argue with her point. I relaxed back in my chair a little and pressed a hand to my chin as I began to think of ideas. “I have to say that I hadn’t thought much about this kind of thing,” I told her. “Usually, a cake just kind of pops out of nowhere. I assumed the same thing would happen for Remy.”
Shelley laughed and rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t just pop out of nowhere,” she corrected him. “Remy is the one who puts together office parties for everyone on their birthday. She’s the one who usually collects the money, finds a card, and buys a cake. She’s the one who puts in all the work for everyone else. You can’t honestly expect her to do that for her own birthday too?” Shelley arched her eyebrow at me as though she was daring me to disagree with her.
“Of course not,” I told her smoothly. “I’ll take care of it, don’t you worry.”
“Great, I was hoping you would say that,” Shelley said with a smile. “That was all I came to talk about, so I’ll get back to work then.”
I simply nodded in reply and Shelley exited just as quickly as she had entered. As I turned back to my work once more, I found that I was even more distracted than ever. My mind was racing with thoughts about Remy’s birthday and what people might expect of us since we’re supposed to be in a relationship. Would they expect me to make a big deal of it in the office? Surely not. Professionalism was still important even on birthdays. Perhaps, I would be expected to give her kiss, however. The thought made my heart race. I hadn’t kissed Remy since the last time we’d fucked and just the small reminder of it made my cock begin to swell.
No, that’s not appropriate, I chided myself before taking a deep breath and trying to calm the blood rushing through my veins. I turned back to the computer and began to flick through my schedule for next week. Something important caught my eye and the wheels in my head began to turn. I was supposed to have a conference call with Kelly and Isaac next Thursday to catch up on everything. It was too good to be coincidence.
Yes, I know exactly what I need to do, I thought to myself with a smug smile. Kelly and Mr. Anderson will never know what hit them.
The next day, I headed to my mother’s house as I did every week to have dinner with her. She cooked a simple but flavorful vegetable curry and I couldn’t help but think how nice it was to come home to someone after a long hard day. My mind instantly wandered to Remy and how nice it would be to come home to her every day. I shook the thought away and instead concentrated on collecting the dishes now that we’d finished our meal.
“You don’t have to do that, Griff,” Mom told me with a tut. “I’ll do the dishes after you leave.”
I smiled. “That would just be wrong, Mom. You cooked, I’ll clean,” I argued as I piled her plate on top of mine and headed toward the door for the kitchen.
“Wait, Griff,” Mom called out just before I left. “Before you do that, I have something that I need to talk to you about.”
Hearing the severity of her tone, I knew she wasn’t just trying to stop me from completing the chore. Mom was serious. Fearing the worst, I turned and headed straight back to the table. “What is it, Mom?”
“Sit down,” she said with a sad smile.
I did as she asked and put the dishes back on the table before leaning close to her. “What’s going on, Mom? Has something happened?” I asked.
She took a deep breath and reached out with her hand to touch mine. “It’s your father,” she answered.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I didn’t want to talk about my father. In fact, I would have preferred it if my mother pretended that he didn’t even exist after all he had done to us, but I knew he was still important to my mom, so I couldn’t just ignore her.
“What about him?”
“Well, I told you a while back now that he was unwell,” she began, “but things have gotten worse. It doesn’t look like he has much time left now and he asked me if you would...”