Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 88456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
“He bought you a car?” Romeo asks me, thinking he heard wrong.
“No.” I shake my head. “A cat with a t.” I take out my phone and turn it toward them so they can see her. I was with her for a day, and I took about fifty pictures of her.
“She looks like a snowball,” Gabriella notes, and I smile, looking down at the picture, swiping left until I get to the last picture we took right before we left for the dinner. Standing in front of the mirror in the closet, he pulled me to him as he kissed my temple, right before he told me he was going to fuck the shit out of me when we got back home. Which made me burst out laughing.
“I guess it’s not all amazing, then.” Gabriella shocks me with her words. “Your face went from fake smile to sad in the matter of ten seconds.” I shrug. “So you’re hiding something.”
“Not hiding anything,” I tell her honestly. “I’m just working something out in my head.”
“Do you need to talk it out?” she asks me.
“Gabriella, leave her alone. If she wanted to talk it out, she would have talked it out,” Romeo says to her while he’s typing away on his phone.
“Did I ask you to join this conversation, Romeo?” She glares at him as she hisses, “I don’t think I did, so why don’t you mind your business and leave this conversation”—she points at her and me—“to us.”
Romeo turns in his seat, and I have to bite my lip not to laugh at the way he’s unfazed by her warning. “Did it sound like I wanted you to join the conversation?”
“Who’s hungry?” I ask, trying to cut through the tension. “I’m starving. I didn’t eat anything.”
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” Gabriella scolds me. “I’m the queen of hiding how I feel.” I don’t have a chance to answer her because the flight attendant comes over with bottles of water for us. “So what do you think is going on with Zara?” she asks me, and I look over at her. “Is she ever getting married?”
“I asked her the same thing.” I’m thankful to change the subject, and by the time we land, I’m so tired I feel like I could fall asleep on my feet.
Two cars are there, and when I kiss them goodbye, I get into my car and head toward my house. I look out the window at the familiar sights before me, expecting to feel glad that I’m home. Even when I spot the brownstone, and I get out carrying my bag, I’m expecting to feel relief that I’m here. This is my home, after all. Walking into the house, it feels so stuffy from being closed up.
I put my bag on the side table before kicking off my heels and walking toward the kitchen. I see a stack of mail on the counter before grabbing a bottle of water and walking upstairs to change. Even when I walk into my bedroom, it feels cold and not homey like it once did. I slip on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt before going back downstairs to figure out dinner.
Grabbing my phone at the front door, I call Nash even though I have to wonder if he even cares that I’ve landed. It rings four times before going to voicemail, and instead of leaving a message, I just hang up.
I pull up his name and text him.
Me: Landed.
But before I press send, I delete it and close it. I open the fridge, seeing that all there is are things to drink, so I pull up the order app. I’m scrolling to see what to order when the phone rings in my hand, and I see it’s Nash.
“Hey,” I answer the phone, pretending I’m fine and that everything is okay.
“Hey,” he says and I hear a door shut on his side, and I wonder if he’s just getting home. “You just got in?”
“Yeah, not too long ago. I was going to order something to eat.” Even this conversation feels forced. “What are you going to do?” I close my eyes, trying to pretend I don’t miss him, but not being able to hug and kiss him has pushed me to the edge, and I’m about to jump fucking over.
“Not sure yet,” he replies.
“I think we need to talk when I come back,” I say the words I’ve wanted to say since last night after I said the words I’ve regretted since.
“I think we need to talk also,” he finally agrees. “There are things that need to be said.”
“I agree,” I say, nervous and wishing we could just hash it out now instead of prolonging this shit.
“Do you know when you’re coming back?” he asks me, his voice soft.