Total pages in book: 225
Estimated words: 218500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1093(@200wpm)___ 874(@250wpm)___ 728(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 218500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1093(@200wpm)___ 874(@250wpm)___ 728(@300wpm)
“Let me handle this. I see a path.”
“Yeah?” she asks.
“I do,” I lie. “We’ll talk later. Tell me you’ll do nothing.”
“Mm hm,” she says.
I grind my teeth. “Seriously. Don’t do anything. I’ll call you later. Gotta finish up some work stuff.”
“Mm,” she mutters. “Yeah.”
“Promise me, Lan. I need to know you won’t put me or yourself in the line of fire here.”
She sighs. “Okay.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise, Chlo. Love you.”
“Good,” I breathe out relief. “Love you, too. Call you tomorrow.”
I end the call and hope she’ll keep her word. Tomorrow night I’ll go over there and talk sense into her.
I’m saying nothing until the last minute about the planned sleepover in order to, hopefully, make sure Derek doesn’t try to find a way to eavesdrop on me there. I’ll conveniently leave my phone behind.
Alannah and I always brainstorm our problems for solutions, but I have no idea what could be a potential solution here other than hoping he gets bored.
Jeff has clout in his law firm and knows a lot of people. He firmly believes Derek is dangerous, so he’ll undoubtedly think long and hard before acting. Alannah is smart, but she’s a protective mama bear type and would break her promise if she thinks she knows better than me here. I can only hope that a) she listens and b) if she doesn’t, Derek’s bark is worse than his bite.
“Hi!” Adam is practically glowing when he comes in with his briefcase on his lap. “There’s more stuff in the van. Do you think you could gimme some help?”
“Sure,” I say, rising from the couch where I’ve been watching the local news while waiting for the food delivery, waiting for him, and wringing my hands over my problems.
I’m nearly past him when he grapples for my hand. “Chloe?”
I stop and look down.
“Don’t I get a welcome home kiss?” he sheepishly asks.
I lean over and press my lips to his. I’m about to pull back when his fingers tangle into my hair that’s now down from the earlier twist. He deepens the kiss, slipping me his tongue, surprising me. “That’s better,” he says. “Missed you.”
I straighten up and feeling discombobulated, I say, “Glad you’re home. I’ll… uh… go get your stuff and then you can tell me all about it. Food will be here soon, too.”
Adam spoke more over that meal than he’s spoken in months.
And throughout, I felt strange about the kiss. Like it was wrong. That it didn’t feel right. And that’s got me completely disjointed. He was so excited about filling me in that I don’t think he’s noticed how off I am.
He said he can see himself doing this, focusing on accessibility advocacy and related issues for now. He still doesn’t want to be typecasted, but he does see big potential for work and to elevate his profile while helping others in his position. He got a jump-start on a couple article ideas he’s already pitched to his editor and says he feels inspired to write, more inspired than in many months.
He excitedly told me he made some great connections including a respected journalist who unfortunately has advancing Huntington’s Disease and is expecting to have to retire due to declining health within six months or less.
Adam interviewed this journalist for an article that his editor is stoked about, and the man invited Adam to have dinner with him, which was why he only briefly texted me last night. He said they talked for over three hours and got along great. Adam says there were more than overt suggestions about this journalist passing the torch to him, recommending him for several publications that have ongoing columns and special assignments. There’s even the potential for him to be on a panel for a call-in health and wellness show.
By the end of the meal, his good mood is contagious, and I find I’m still smiling while putting the food away, excited for his zest for life after such a dark period.
I hear the motor of Adam’s wheelchair coming into the kitchen as I’m wiping down the table.
“Chloe?”
I look over my shoulder. He’d gone to take care of a few work things while I put stuff away with plans to find something to watch on television together in half an hour, but now he’s two feet away with a strange look on his face.
“Why don’t you pour yourself another glass of wine and meet me in the bedroom?” he suggests.
“You wanna watch TV in there instead?” I ask. I can’t even remember the last time he suggested we find something to watch together.
“I… ordered something and I thought we could try it,” Adam says with a little smile on his face. “Shit,” he adds, “I feel like a nervous virgin.”
Frowning at the strange comment, I follow his eyes down to the box on his lap. This is the box that got delivered this morning that I was instructed not to open.