Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
“Next time,” she says.
“Yes, hopefully,” I agree. “Plus, someone needs to be here to keep Mickey company.” I glance over at her fat white cat as he saunters into the kitchen, taking in the black at his ears and on the top of his head.
“He would be okay with James and Tony downstairs.” She smiles at him when he falls to his bottom next to his empty wet-food dish, likely having eaten earlier this morning. “So,”—her eyes meet mine—“what are you going to do while I’m gone?”
“Work.”
She scrunches her nose. “You need to live a little, Reese. Work is good, but you’re young. You need to enjoy yourself and your life. Maybe hang by the pool or go to the beach. You could even find a handsome man to spend some time with.” Her eyes wander over my face. “You’re so beautiful, so young. You shouldn’t let that go to waste.”
“Maybe.” I lie because the only thing I plan on doing in the weeks she’ll be gone is catching up on all the books I’ve missed out on while studying for finals, and vegging out in front of the TV when I’m not working.
“At least agree to go to the pool. Get some sun and fresh air.”
“I can do that,” I give in, taking my bowl and coffee to the counter and pulling out a stool. “What time is Marco getting here?” Marco is Ileana’s boyfriend, or her partner as she refers to him. They’ve been together for fifteen years, have never lived together, and she says they never will. She was married in her early twenties, and her husband was a jerk. Not only was he controlling, but he was also abusive, and none of that abuse started until after they were married and living together. By that time, their lives were so tangled it was difficult for her to just walk away. Years after she finally divorced him, she met Marco, and before things ever got serious, she let him know that she never wanted to get married or live with a man again. And since they’re still together fifteen years later and one of the happiest couples I have ever seen, I have to assume their arrangement works for them.
“He should be here any minute now,” she says, right as I hear the front door open. I lean back in my chair to watch Marco walk in wearing a dress shirt and slacks with a single piece of luggage I know, at least from the print covering it, is very expensive. While he sets it next to the door, I take him in. He’s pretty. Not handsome or beautiful, but pretty with his pitch-black hair, darker complexion from his Dominican heritage, bright sea-green eyes, thick lashes, strong jaw, and perfect facial hair. Literally perfect. Like he takes time to style it.
“Good morning, princess,” he greets me with a smile as he walks toward the kitchen.
“Morning.” I grin and tip my head to the side to accept the cheek kiss I know is coming.
“Morning, mi amor.” Aunt Ileana smiles when he comes out of his bend and walks toward her. Then, with the two of them looking like a clip from a movie, he wraps his arm around her waist, bends her over it, and kisses her. Smiling to myself, I shove a spoonful of cereal into my mouth.
“Are you packed?” he asks her, taking the cup from her hand to take a sip of her coffee.
“Yes, my bags are in my room.”
“How many?” he asks with a grin.
She rolls her eyes. “Only three.”
“Only three.” His smile widens. “I’m going to need to rent a plane just for your luggage.”
“We’re away for almost two months.”
“Yes, and in that time, you’ll shop every day, and I’ll have to buy you two more pieces of luggage for all your new stuff.”
“Are you complaining?” She rests her hand on her hip.
“Never.” He kisses her cheek and then looks at me. “What are your plans while we are gone?”
“Work,” I repeat, sticking to my earlier statement and then glancing at my aunt when she makes a noise. I roll my eyes. “And the pool.” Marco grins, probably knowing my aunt already talked to me. I look between the two of them. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you to the airport?”
“The driver is already downstairs waiting,” Marco tells me, stepping away from my aunt after handing back her mug. “I should go grab your things.”
She watches him leave and then looks at me as she walks to the sink to rinse her cup. “Remember, Rosie will be here Tuesdays and Fridays to clean and pick up any groceries you need.”
“I remember.” I don’t even bother telling her I can clean up and shop for myself while she is out of town. I offered to do those things when I moved in, and she explained that with the work she does for my aunt and a few other families in the building, Rosie takes care of her daughter, who needs extra care, and depends on every penny she makes.