Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 91216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
I rummage through my closet, tossing clothes left and right. Finally, I unearth the sweater—a garish green thing with a stuffed reindeer head protruding from the front, its red nose flashing with tiny LED lights.
As I pull it on, I grin at my reflection in the mirror and think of Jack. What would he think if he saw me? Not exactly a Scrooge right now.
After spending entirely too long applying makeup and trying to turn my unwashed hair into something presentable, I grab my bag and head out the door.
I slam into what feels like a brick wall but is only a man’s chest.
“Whoa there!” a familiar voice chuckles as hands steady me. “Where’s the fire?”
“Tyler?” I step back. Why is he at my house? Again.
His eyes travel down to my sweater, and his lips twitch into a grin. “Nice reindeer. Very . . . festive.”
“Uh yeah.” I don’t like the feeling I’m starting to get. Another unannounced visit is just . . . weird.
“Wanted to congratulate you on your latest post. It’s causing quite a stir at the office. We thought we should increase the number of pieces you show off this week since engagement is high,” Tyler says, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. He lifts a black velvet bag. “So I volunteered to bring you some more jewelry so you don’t have to come all the way to the office.”
“Oh . . . okay,” I say as I take the bag and place it inside next to the door, not entering the house. “I’ll get on that first thing tomorrow.”
I shift uncomfortably, acutely aware of how close he’s standing.
“But I’m actually heading out right now. I’m meeting Sloane for drinks.”
“Oh, Sloane,” Tyler says, his tone shifting slightly. “You two are pretty close, aren’t you?”
I nod, trying to edge past him. “Yeah, we’ve been friends for a while. Listen, Tyler, I really need to go. I don’t want to miss the ferry.”
He doesn’t move. “You know, I’ve been thinking. Maybe we should grab a drink sometime, just the two of us. Professional, of course. Discuss some ideas for future posts.”
Alarm bells.
“That’s . . . nice of you to offer,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “Maybe we can discuss it at the office sometime?”
Tyler’s smile falters for a moment before returning, a bit too wide. “Sure, sure. No pressure. Just thought it might be good to collaborate more closely. You know, given the fact that your posts have had low engagement before the most recent . . . and I’d hate to see you lose your seat with the company.”
The implication hangs in the air between us. Is he threatening me? Suggesting he has some sway over my job security?
“Right,” I say, finally managing to step around him. “Well, I really do need to go. Thanks for stopping by.”
I hurry down the steps, my heart racing. As I reach the sidewalk, I can’t resist glancing back. Tyler is still standing there, watching me with an unreadable expression.
The entire ferry ride to Manhattan, I can’t shake the uneasy feeling that I’m being watched, but I know it’s impossible. I left Tyler on my porch, and he wouldn’t have been able to catch up to me without me noticing. But something is definitely off about him. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but off. I debate whether to tell Sloane about Tyler’s visit but decide against it. No need to ruin our night out with work drama.
As I approach Tonic, I spot Sloane through the window. She’s wearing a sweater that appears to be made entirely of tinsel and Christmas ornaments. I laugh louder than normal, my earlier discomfort fading away.
“There you are!” Sloane exclaims as I enter. “I was beginning to think you’d gotten tangled up in that reindeer.”
I settle onto the barstool next to her, grateful for the warmth and cheer of the bar. “Sorry I’m late. I had an . . . unexpected visitor.”
Sloane raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Do tell.”
I hesitate, then shake my head. “It’s nothing. Let’s focus on more important things—like how many candy canes are actually attached to your sweater?”
Sloane grins and launches into a detailed explanation of her sweater’s construction. As we laugh and sip our festive cocktails, I push thoughts of Tyler and work stress to the back of my mind. For now, at least, I can just enjoy this moment with my friend.
“So, I have a confession,” Sloane says as she orders us two more drinks.
“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow, taking a sip of my peppermint martini. “This should be good.”
“Actually . . . it’s you who should be confessing. You’re holding out on me. I thought we were close enough to not keep secrets.”
I nearly choke on my drink. “What are you talking about?”
Secrets would be an understatement. The question is which one?