Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“You can just say you’re mad that I made you go to that farmer’s market today,” I say, sniffing the enormous bouquet I have cradled in one arm while being careful not to drop the large white pumpkin in the other.
“I’m not mad. But I still maintain that you over packed. And that pumpkins are supposed to be orange.”
“White pumpkins are very in right now,” I say, setting said white pumpkin on the floor at my feet so I can pull out my keys.
Matt unclips Juno’s leash from her collar, so she’s the first one into the apartment. Matt and I follow, and though I’ll never admit it out loud . . . it is a lot of stuff.
I’m not usually one for farmer’s markets. Give me delivery or couture any day. But today, when Matt and I took Juno on a walk, we stumbled across one, and somehow I let myself get sucked into the charm of it.
I’ve been sucked into the charm of the entire weekend.
And much as I know it was probably a mistake, I can’t bring myself to regret a single moment. Not the long lingering meals, the champagne-fueled brunches, the sex, none of it.
Spilling my guts on Friday night had been scary, but it had also done something wonderful for the rest of the weekend.
See: farmers market.
Also . . .
I give Matt a coy glance, waiting to see if he’ll bring it up first.
He catches my eye and grins as he refills Juno’s water dish. “I’m not asking for it.”
“But you know you want to.”
“Oh, I want to,” he agrees, setting the dish in front of my panting dog. “But I want to win more.”
I purse my lips. I like winning, too. But I also like my cell phone. The worst part is, it was my own idea.
On Friday night as we waited for the steaks to finish grilling, I noticed both Matt and I checking our iPhones, I suspect more out of habit than anything else. I issued a challenge: Who could go the longest without it? We turned them off then and there and traded, so neither would be tempted to sneak a look while the other was in a different room.
It was weird, but also surprisingly freeing.
I can’t remember the last time I’ve simply let myself be present in a moment, any moment. There’s something entirely too vulnerable about being alone with your thoughts, with no Facebook distraction, no incoming email, no matter how inconsequential.
There’s something even more vulnerable about being alone with your thoughts . . . and your worst enemy.
Except he’s not.
And if I’m honest, he hasn’t been for a long time.
Hell, to be completely honest, I don’t know that he was ever my worst enemy, so much as my biggest threat. The person who I sensed, even from the very beginning, could destroy me.
What I didn’t see until recently was how the person with the power to destroy you can also be the one to lift you up. The one who can make you live like you’ve never lived before. The one who shines light into dark, infiltrates color into blandness.
The person who can take someone who’s perfectly content and make her . . . happy.
The person who can make me happy.
Which, I’m sad to say, I didn’t even know was possible. I’ve gotten so damn used to thinking anything better than hungry and angry was the good life.
Ian’s always made me feel safe, in a big-brother kind of way. I thought that was as good as it gets. These past couple of weeks with Matt have changed that. Hell, these past four years with him have changed it. The way he makes me feel has always made me want to run.
But not anymore. Now I want to . . . stay.
I just wish I knew what comes next. I’ve never done this before. I’ve never fallen for someone, much less someone who’s every bit as relationship averse as I am.
Matt, oblivious to my thoughts, pulls my cell phone out of his back pocket and gives it an enticing waggle. “Hmm?”
I bite my lip. I really do want that cell phone. I take his phone out of my bag and hold it up. “Call it a draw?”
“Done,” he says in relief.
We swap phones, and I pour us each a sparkling water as I wait for my iPhone to start back up again after being powered off.
“So, here’s a question,” Matt says, accepting the glass I hold out. “You make a decent living, and I’ve seen firsthand you’re damn good at your job. But what does your work look like on an average day?”
“Depends on whether or not I’m on an active project. When I sign a contract, that person’s my priority. But assuming they don’t need me 24-7, I generally keep my ear to the ground, stay in touch with my contacts. Coffee dates, lunch dates, whatever. As I approach the end of a project, I’ll start figuring out what’s next.”