Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 79670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“Oh, no problem,” she replies. “I’m just happy you called.”
I smile now. “What can I do for you?” I ask. My aunt Allison didn’t tell me anything when she gave me her number, just that she was looking for someone to take her pictures. I get up and walk over to the fridge to grab a bottle of juice.
Never in a million years did I expect the next words to come out of her mouth. “Well, I was on the internet the other day,” she starts, “and I saw these gorgeous pictures of a woman in lingerie.” I close my eyes and hang my head. “They were so beautiful. She was in a bed, and there was this glow about her.”
I stop her from talking. “I can come to you.” I put the phone on my shoulder as I walk over to my planner. I’m still old school. No matter how technology is, I always, always write my appointments down. It takes one time to make you never trust technology again. “How is next week?” I pull out the red pen, ready to write the lady’s name in it.
“That works. My name is Geraldine,” she repeats, like she didn’t tell me this five times already, “and it’s a boudoir shoot.” I close my eyes, dreading saying yes to my aunt Allison when she said her friend’s mother wanted to take some portraits of herself. I don’t think anyone thought it would be boudoir. I thought maybe pictures in her garden, pictures with her dogs, pictures of her cooking, but the last thing I expected was a boudoir shoot.
“That works,” I confirm, writing her information down. I’m just finishing writing her phone number down when the doorbell rings. “Okay, so next Tuesday at ten.” I look at the time on my Apple Watch, seeing it’s just a little after noon. I push off from the island, wondering if it’s one of my family members or maybe even UPS. I was expecting some rolls of film this week. “See you then.”
I hang up and walk to the door, not thinking anything of it. When I unlock the door and open it, it feels like everything stops in time. Everything is almost in slow motion as my eyes meet his. I never expected the green eyes to be staring back at me. His sandy-blond hair is pushed back. You can see he just ran his hands through it. He’s wearing a leather jacket, jeans, and motorcycle boots, and holding a motorcycle helmet in his right hand. Romeo Beckett in all his Hollywood glory, his megawatt smirk is on full display. “What the fuck are you doing here?” The words come out before I can stop them, and then I shake my head. “Forget it. I don’t even care.” I go to slam the door, but he sticks his boot inside the door. My heart speeds up as if I’m running a marathon at full speed.
“Gabriella,” he says my name as almost a whisper. It’s been eight months since I last laid eyes on him. “We need to talk.” He pushes the door open and stares at me. The only thing I can think of, besides how the hell did he find me, is I hate him. Every single fiber in my being hates this man. Every single fiber in my being also knows I might be secretly lying to myself, but I’m too stubborn to admit that. While going through all these emotions, my head yells out, he broke you.
“We literally have nothing to say to each other!” I shout at him. “Nothing, not a damn thing.” I fold my arms over my chest, knowing he isn’t going to go quietly or else he would have left already. “What do you want?” I ask, but I don’t wait for him to answer me. “What could you possibly want from me?”
His eyes never leave mine. “I wanted to see you.” The minute the words are out of his mouth, I laugh hysterically while I clap my hands. This is what must happen when sane people just snap.
“Well, you saw me.” I hold my hands out to my sides. “In all my glory.” I really wish I had dressed up a bit more so he can regret losing me. “Now you can go back to the hole you crawled out of.” I ignore the pressure in the middle of my chest as I think about the fact that it’s been eight months since I’ve seen him. Eight months of silence, at least on my part. I’m not really sure on his side since I blocked his number after our last and final conversation.
He laughs at me. “Let’s go out for dinner.”
I tilt my head to the side, wondering if this man has lost his damn mind. “Yes, let’s go for dinner,” I agree sarcastically. “Why don’t you go grab a table, and I’ll meet you there when hell freezes over and pigs fly.” I can’t stand here and look at him for another second. “Listen, I don’t know what game you’re playing or why you’re even here.” I grab the door in my hand. “But I’m not interested in seeing you or playing the game.” I take one good look at him. “So please leave me alone.” I slam the door in his face, and I’m shocked that he lets it close.