Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
I understand it. Like I said to Sunny, Jeff’s in love with Jordan. He’s putting lotion on her back, cutting up her apples, ignoring things maybe he shouldn’t ignore because Jordan’s the center of his focus. He’ll probably end up getting voted off in a week or so, but he’ll leave with his conscience intact.
I dip my chin to peer at the top of Sunny’s head. If she was awake, she’d be yelling at Jeff not to be dumb, to pay attention to the others, to make good strategic decisions. I wonder why she fell asleep in the middle of her favorite show. Seems odd. I place a light kiss on the crown of her head and then ease off the sofa so I can clean up the pizza shit and, like Jeff, find my woman a blanket.
Oddly, Sunny remains conked out all night, sleeping through everything including me carrying her to her bedroom. I hate this place. It reminds me of the part of Sunny I can’t have—the intimate, personal, part of her. It’s not like she banned me from her bedroom, but that I don’t allow myself in here often. It makes me want things I shouldn’t be having thoughts about.
“I can’t believe I fell asleep in the middle of Big Brother,” Sunny complains. “You should’ve woken me up.”
“I made a shit ton of noise, and you didn’t move. You were conked out.” I slide a plate of eggs, bacon, and refried potatoes in front of her. She wrinkles her nose.
“I…I’m not hungry,” she stutters, and then her hand flies to her mouth.
I grab the waste basket and shove it under her face. She lets out a small cry, and then up comes the pizza from last night. I gather up her hair in my free hand and hold it away while she retches. Worry creeps up my neck. She fell asleep uncharacteristically last night. She’s vomiting first thing in the morning over breakfast I’ve made for her a hundred times before.
“I’m going to call a doctor.”
“Noooo,” she moans. “You know I hate doctors.” She rights herself and slumps against the back of the chair. Reluctantly, I release her hair, enjoying the silky feeling as the strands slide through my fingers.
I fetch a glass of water and put it up to her lips. “Swish and spit.”
She does as I instruct. “I feel better now.” She pushes my hand away. Her eyes fall to the breakfast, and her face grows visibly uncomfortable.
“Shit.” I swipe the whole plate into the trash and set the thing in the mudroom, shutting the door on whatever smell is making her ill. “Let’s get you up to bed. I’ll call the school and tell them you’re not coming in.”
“I think I’m okay,” she argues, but she feels weak and light in my arms when I pick her up.
“Sure you are.”
“Really.”
“You could run a marathon and everything, right?”
“Maybe not a marathon. I could be up for a 5K, though.”
“I’ll get your tennis shoes.”
“Wait, you missed my bedroom.” She points over my shoulder.
“I’m putting you in my room. It’s quieter and darker. Your shades allow too much light in.”
“I like that,” she pouts. “Not everyone wants to live in a cave.”
“Is that why you don’t like my bedroom? You never come in here.”
She falls silent and then, “You don’t come into my bedroom either.”
“Yeah, I guess not. Figured you needed your own space and all,” I say gruffly, setting her on the bed. “It was a fight to get you to move in, remember? We argued about it for months. You said you didn’t want to be a leech. I said this place is so big we could live together and not see each other.”
“But we live on top of each other. There are three bedrooms never used, including the one in the basement with its own kitchen and living space,” she reminds me.
I shrug. “That’s the mother-in-law suite, and you aren’t my mother-in-law.”
“I think that’s just the name for it, and you aren’t required to put a mother-in-law in there or the property gets taken away from you.” She snuggles under the blanket.
“Don’t want to risk it. It was hard to buy this place.” I bought it because Sunny and I drove by the house once and she made me stop so she could take a picture. It was her dream house, she told me, with its wraparound porch and wide lot and pretty iron fence along the borders of the property.
I contacted a realtor that day and told them I’d pay anything for the house. It took me six months to convince the homeowners they’d be better off in a new place. Six months and seven figures, but it was worth it. It’s always worth it when it comes to Sunny, even swallowing my feelings and pretending she’s nothing more than a friend.