Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 118733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
Palmer stepped out of Celine’s grasp within seconds, but she didn’t get the hint and held on to Palmer’s forearms. “I was so worried about you.” She finally let go and sat in the chair across from Palmer’s desk.
Palmer sat down and thanked Celine. “I’m good now.” She had practiced the lie while in the hospital.
“Did the doctors tell you anything?”
I’m dying.
“No, unfortunately. They’re stumped and say I’m prone to migraines. I’m on some new meds, so everything should be regulated now.”
“What a relief. Well, Frank missed you.”
“Did he?”
“Yes. He went on and on about how you made this place a well-oiled machine.”
“Well, it’s nice to be missed.”
“Yes, it is,” Celine agreed, and she stood. “I’ll see you at lunch.”
Palmer nodded and watched the doorway for a second and wondered who else would come in. People were funny. Most of the time, they didn’t give you the time of day until something drastic happened, and then you were their best friend. Palmer was to blame as well. She could’ve forged relationships with people, but she wasn’t good at it, and didn’t enjoy telling people why.
She opened a document on her computer and started typing. Her words were to the point. She printed, signed, and carried the letter upstairs to Frank’s office. His door was open. She went in and caught him watching videos on his phone.
“Hey, Palmer, I’m glad you’re back.”
“Thanks, Frank. I wanted to give you this.” She slid the paper toward him and stepped back.
He picked it up, read it, looked at her, and then glanced at the sheet of paper again. “You’re quitting?”
Palmer swallowed the lump in her throat. “Yes, a while ago I applied for a job overseas, and they offered me the position over the weekend. It’s a dream, really.” It wasn’t, but the alternative was worse. She didn’t want their sympathy. She didn’t want to see the sorrow in their eyes if she told them she was dying.
What Palmer wanted was to say goodbye to her colleagues, pack her things, and sail off into the sunset. Maybe Celine would throw a nice office party, or they’d all go out to dinner and toast Palmer and her new adventure. She had peace in her heart, thinking her coworkers would believe she was moving on to a dream job versus succumbing to a brain tumor.
ELEVEN
The second day of Kent’s scheduled days off meant laundry, groceries, and cleaning his apartment. Yesterday, he gave into the demons and drank himself into oblivion. When he had arrived home from his shift, all he could do was sense Maeve. She was everywhere. The book she was reading the other night sat on his coffee table. Her shampoo was still in the bathroom, and her pillow smelled like her perfume. That was when he let himself truly feel everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. In love or not, the woman he’d spent most of his nights with was gone, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Kent needed to forget and opened a bottle of vodka for breakfast.
At some point, he called Damian, who came over and helped his friend through his heartache. Damian also took Kent’s phone away. It was better to hide the device than for Kent to drunk text Maeve. His feelings fluctuated from anger to heartbreak. The brokenhearted version of Kent wanted Maeve back, even though she wasn’t available. The smart part of Kent wanted to forget everything and move on. Damian said he hoped the smart part would win.
Today, he was determined to forget about everything. His eyes traveled over the empty bottles on his kitchen counter, and he groaned. Before he could clean the mess, he had to go to the store to get trash bags. He also needed to do his laundry before work tomorrow. The latter couldn’t wait. He was out of clean uniforms and had to work in the morning.
“Laundry first,” he said to his empty apartment. Kent loaded up his laundry into bags he’d found when one of the major box stores put everything out for back to school. They were perfect and lightweight, and they made carrying his laundry easy. Kent grabbed his wallet and made his way to the street. His apartment building didn’t have a laundry facility, but there was one on the corner.
Only one other person was at the laundromat when he walked in. Kent breathed a sigh of relief. Sometimes, when he wasn’t there first thing in the morning, laundry would end up taking him hours. He found two washers and loaded his clothes. The army had taught him about separating his darks from his whites, and even though it cost him more, he didn’t care.
Before he tossed each pair of pants into the washer, he searched the pockets. He was checking his last pair when his fingertips met a folded piece of paper. He pulled it out of his pocket and held it for a moment before it hit him. It was Palmer’s list of places she wanted to go to before she died. Kent slipped it into his pocket and finished sorting his clothes.