Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Reed nods in understanding.
This conversation is over for now.
Chapter 8
Gracen
The doorbell rings and I take a quick peek in the oven. My quiche is starting to brown nicely on top, so I turn the gas off before cutting through the dining room to the front foyer.
Josie stands on the other side of the door when I open it, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and a bag of Hershey Kisses in the other.
“I have to say, your wine and chocolate sound a lot better than the quiche I have in the oven,” I say dryly as I step back to let her in.
Josie chuckles as she enters and then gives me a wink. “Quiche sounds wonderful. We’ll drink wine with it and have the chocolate for dessert.”
“I like the way you think,” I tell her with a grin, and she follows me back into the kitchen.
“Where’s Lilly?” she asks as she sets her gifts on the counter and plops down one of the stools at the L-shaped island.
“It’s her nap time,” I say as I use oven mitts to pull the quiche out. “I put her down a little early after we made lunch plans.”
Said lunch plans were unexpected and a joy to receive. Josie had called me not long after Marek had slunk out of the house this morning to go help one of his teammates.
And yes, he slunk. He felt like shit for judging me, as well he should. But I let it go, knowing that he doesn’t understand hardly anything about being a parent. It made me brood while I lingered over coffee and Lilly ate pancakes. Trying to reconcile angry Marek with judgmental Marek, and trying to reconcile those two Mareks with the one who tried to seduce me last night.
Josie was a nice distraction. She asked if we could do lunch today, and I invited her over to the house because I had intended to try this new quiche recipe I’d formulated in my mind. It’s full of spinach, goat cheese, and feta cheese and I hope it tastes all right.
Smells all right for sure.
“So there’s a job opening at the hospital where I work,” Josie says out of the blue, and I almost drop the quiche. I set it down on top of the stove and drop the mitts on the counter as I turn to face her. “It’s not neonatal, but they are searching for a labor and delivery nurse. In fact, the job hasn’t even been posted publicly yet, but feelers were put out to staff for any personal recommendations.”
“Okay,” I say hesitantly.
“If you’re interested, I want to personally recommend you,” she continues.
“But why?” I blurt out, walking to the island that separates us. “You don’t even know me.”
“That’s true,” she replies with a wave of her hand. “So maybe let’s start with this…are you interested in a job here, and if so, are you qualified?”
“Of course I’m qualified,” I tell her with a smile. “And I have excellent references. My supervisor was surprisingly understanding of why I had to leave so soon without giving notice, so I’m not too worried about that. But I’m not sure how to answer your first question, am I interested?”
“Because if you were interested that would mean you’re reconciled to stay here permanently,” Josie drawls as if she’s hazarding a guess.
It’s a damn good guess. Still, I hedge slightly. “It would be a fresh start for me.”
Josie studies me for a moment, but then she just merely nods toward the quiche. “Want to serve that? I’m starving.”
The request startles me for a moment, but then I remember my head. “Yeah, sorry. Let me get some plates.”
I slip into hostess mode and plate up two perfectly sliced pieces of the quiche. As I reach for some forks out of the drawer to my right, Josie asks, “Are you here to stay then?”
If I had my way, yes.
If Owen gets his way, no.
My answer comes out without thought, because Lord knows I’ve spent a lot of damn time thinking about it already. “I think I’d like to. But I want to get my own place. It’s just not going to work out staying at Marek’s house.”
“Is he still being a dick?” Josie asks as she stabs her fork down into the quiche. “Because I can get Reed—”
I shake my head and hold my hand up to stop her. “No, nothing like that. I mean, he’s still angry at me, but it’s waning. I can tell.”
“Then what’s the problem? That’s one less pressure on you right now, having to find a place to stay and pay for it.”
Another hard shake of my head. “That’s not it. It’s just…”
My words trail off because it’s all kinds of fucked up. I don’t even want to say it out loud.
But Josie’s eyes go a little wide as if she’s had an internal epiphany and she leans across the table a bit more to whisper, “Oh my God. You still have feelings for him, don’t you.”