Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
“Is it?”
Damn it. I’m a terrible liar, and I know it. He seriously has me by just asking the simplest questions.
“I’m not here to try and start trouble,” Wade says quickly, reading my turmoil. “Seriously. I just wanted to tell you what I have to say, and then I can leave. Or I can go now if you want, without saying it.”
“No,” I blurt. “Say it. Say what you wanted to say.” I know if he doesn’t, and he walks out, I’m always going to wonder. I’ve done enough wondering over the past six months to drive myself crazy, and Leanne obviously knows that. She can see right through me. She knows that after all this time, I haven’t even attempted to go out on a single date. I really just buried myself in my work in an effort to keep busy.
“I wanted to say that yes, I have lots of money. No, I didn’t tell you, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was even hiding out and that I didn’t get my head screwed on sooner. You were instrumental in that, so I’m here to tell you thanks. I needed the push. I want to keep growing this company I started. Most of all, I want to tell you that I haven’t changed. At least, if I have, I hope it’s for the better. I’ve become more sensitive and compassionate and aware of so many more issues than I ever was. I really believe in what I’m doing. My parents are also getting involved with the company. They both quit their jobs so they could help. They’re great people, and I love working with them every single day. I wanted to buy them a new house, I’ll admit, but they didn’t want one. Not yet. One day, when they start slowing down more, which isn’t anytime soon, maybe they’ll let me, but they haven’t changed one bit. I still live in a fourteen hundred square foot bungalow. I still enjoy it, and I still drive a regular car. I still like pizza and hanging out with my friend Rob, who also works for me now. Although I shouldn’t say for me—with me is probably a better term because I still work every single day. I do what I love. Carpentry. Building. Making things for the people who need it most. Giving them refuge. I’m here because I know this is a huge thing to ask, and maybe it’s too soon and too much, but I was wondering if you might want to be a part of it. Any of it.”
“Um—like—in a professional capacity?”
Wade shakes his head, clearly flustered. He looks adorable, by the way. I know what he’s trying to say, but I have to be sure. I’ve made enough assumptions about us. “Uh, if you would like to, we could always use a writer for our websites and our communications. That would be great, but I was hoping you might consider something a little less professional, too, and that you might want to be a part of my life. Starting out slow, I mean. Like seeing each other a couple of times a week, if you want. Dates. Normal dates. Or friendly stuff. Whatever you want. Or if it’s nothing at all, I’ll be okay with that.”
“Will you?”
Wade slowly shakes his head. “I keep telling myself I’ll have to be, but I don’t want to think about it. I’m really hoping the cake over there is quite tasty, and that maybe if I beg a little…”
“You’re such a dork.” I can’t hold in my laughter. Wade slowly starts smiling, and I realize I like seeing him smile so much more than seeing him standing there looking so uncertain and sad.
“I’ve missed you,” he says simply. “I thought we had the start of something that could be awesome. I couldn’t let it go.”
“I couldn’t either.”
I don’t know why he looks surprised at that. Does he think he’s so forgettable? “Wade, I think—I don’t know. I felt something good. That’s all I know. It was good, but I panicked. I got scared. I wanted to protect myself from getting burned.”
“I get it. I’ve been burned a couple of times too. It sucks. But I promise I will never do that to you. I want to be the same person I was before, or better. The money is great, but it’s only great if I can do great things with it. I still want to be your spider-trapping neighbor from next door. I was thinking about moving here permanently. Finishing the house. Maybe my parents would like it one day.”
“So, you’d be my neighbor again?”
“Only if you’ll have me. If you never want to see me again, I’ll sell the house as it is, and I promise I won’t bother you again. Ever.”