Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 91840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
The silence that follows is intense and painful.
“Then, as your boss, I’m telling you to take the fucking day off,” he bites out.
Then, he’s gone, and I’m left standing here.
I go over to the table and pick the glass up.
Vodka.
I grab the ashtray and take that and the glass inside where I wash them out. I feed Gucci.
Then, I stand here, in his apartment, feeling hurt and a little lost, not really sure what to do with myself.
Ava
After feeling sorry for myself for a few minutes, I got mad with the big jerk and decided to do what he’d said to do. So, I took the day off.
Gucci and I went to a dog park and had fun. A lot of people were interested in her, so I got to chatting with a few of them, which was nice, and it took my mind off of Gabe the asshole.
After I dropped Gucci back at the apartment and fed her a lunch of hay and carrots, I went shopping alone.
Solo shopping always helps to perk me up.
I bought some new pajamas and sunglasses. And a pair of Choos that I couldn’t afford. Also, I bought Gucci a new coat and a water bowl.
When I was done, I stopped and had sushi.
I didn’t really feel that hungry, but I thought I’d better eat.
When I finally came back to the apartment, I was expecting to encounter Gabe. But there was just Gucci waiting for me.
So, I let her out onto the terrace, cleaned up after her, and then made her dinner. Then, I got started on dinner for Gabe and me. Even though I wasn’t hungry, I figured he would be.
Turned out, I was wrong because he didn’t come home for dinner.
I broke down and texted him at nine to check if he was okay. But he never replied.
And, now, it’s ten thirty, and he’s not back. He’s been out all day.
Even though I’m still mad at him, I am getting kind of worried.
I know he’s a grown man, but he’s also on crutches, and getting around for him isn’t the easiest.
I’m not really sure what to do.
I’m sitting on the sofa with Gucci when there’s a commotion of voices and laughter in the hallway.
Picking up Gucci, I get to my feet just as Gabe comes hobbling into the living room, minus his crutches, with about ten people accompanying him. And one of those people is beautiful and tall and blonde, and he has his arm around her.
Just like he had it around me last night.
Pain and jealousy shoot up my spine.
“Speedy.” His voice slurs a little, and there’s a smirk on his face, but nothing’s cheery about the way he’s looking at me.
His eyes are cold and empty. Like he’s telling me with his stare that he doesn’t care about me or what happened between us last night.
And it really fucking hurts.
“Is that a goat?” the woman propping him up says.
I ignore her.
“Where are your crutches?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “I lost them.”
“You lost them? How the hell do you lose a pair of crutches?”
“I don’t know, Mom. I just did.”
The blonde laughs. Gabe slips out from under her arm and walks—well, staggers closer to me. He reeks of liquor and cigarettes.
“Now, be a good little employee, and get my guests some drinks.” He taps me on my nose with his fingertip and moves past me.
Um, what the fuck just happened?
I turn, my eyes following him. “What the hell was that?”
He stops and looks back to me. His eyes are almost black.
His friends have all scattered around the living room, some going out onto the terrace.
“I said, get my guests some drinks. You work here, right?”
“Last I knew, I was here to care for you, not be a waitress for your friends.”
His face darkens. “Fine. I’ll get their fucking drinks.” He hobbles away, in the direction of the kitchen.
I go to my room and put Gucci safely in there, and then I go into the kitchen to find him pouring drinks.
“Where have you been?” My tone is snippy.
“Out,” he answers without looking at me.
“I got that. But all day? I thought you just had a few meetings, and then you’d be home. I was worried. I texted you.”
His eyes lift to mine. “My phone died.”
I try to control my temper and soften my voice, but it doesn’t work. “And you couldn’t borrow a phone to let me know you were okay? You must’ve known I would worry.”
“No. I didn’t know. Because you’re not my fucking wife!” he roars.
The force of his anger takes me back a step.
Tears hit the backs of my eyes, but I refuse to cry. “I know I’m not.”
“So, stop fucking acting like you are!”
“I’m not!” I yell back, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “I’m just trying to be a good friend.”