Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“Yeah, that’s fine,” I agree. “Thank you for checking.”
“Just doing my job,” she says. “Let me know if you need anything.” She is direct.
“Will do,” I reply and hang up the phone before I ask her if she’s okay and if something is bothering her.
I spend the whole day trying to think of different reasons to call her, but nothing is a good enough reason, and the next day when my alarm rings, I spring out of bed, anxious to get to work. “Daddy,” Meadow calls me from her room, “am I going to daycare today?” I slip on shorts before I go to her bedroom.
“That depends,” I say, putting my hand on her head. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” she states, and her forehead is cool.
“Then you are going to daycare,” I tell her even though I had Mrs. Potter on standby to come and watch her. “Get dressed, and I’ll get breakfast started.”
“Okay.” She turns over until she slides off her queen-sized bed. “I’m going to wear shorts.” I nod, watching her pick out her pink shorts with a matching top. When she’s got her outfit picked, I walk back to my room, go to the bathroom, wash my face, and fix my hair before getting dressed and walking downstairs. Forty-five minutes later, I’m parking my car in the parking lot at work. A quick look around and I don’t spot her SUV. After getting out and grabbing my coffee, I walk over to the elevator, pressing the button.
I look at my watch and see that it’s almost eight forty-five. Screeching tires make me turn my head to see her SUV pulling into a parking space closest to the elevator instead of in her normal spot. She rushes out of her SUV, and she doesn’t even notice I’m here, so I take a second to take her in. She’s wearing blue pants that are tight as fuck but go loose at her knee, with a white satin button-down top. I don’t even bother looking at her shoes because I see that she’s wearing sunglasses. She finally looks up and sees me. “Shit,” she mutters. “Busted.”
“I would say.” I put my hand in my pocket as she comes closer. “Are you hungover?” I bark, and if I could move, I would lean in and sniff to see if she smells like lingering booze.
“What?” she snaps.
“Are you hungover?” I ask her again. “You’re an hour late and wearing sunglasses. If that doesn’t scream I’m hungover, I don’t know what does.”
“Incredible,” she huffs and ignores my question before she steps forward and presses the button for the elevator that is already lit.
“If this is too much responsibility for you…” I know I should stop, but I’m pissed. I just haven’t admitted to myself that I’m pissed she was out partying without me, or the fact she was probably out on a date. Maybe this is her walk of shame. That thought alone makes me grit my teeth.
“For the record, I’m forty-five minutes late, not hours,” she says, pulling up her sunglasses. I expect to find her eyes bloodshot, but they just look tired. “My alarm didn’t ring because my phone died.” The elevator pings. “But instead of you worrying that, I don’t know, I was in maybe an accident, the first thing that comes to your mind is I’m hungover.” She steps into the elevator, shaking her head, and presses the button five times nervously. I don’t note how my stomach clenches when she says she might have been in an accident. “Fuck that.” She walks out of the elevator. “I’m not sharing this with you. I’d rather walk.” Her heels click on the asphalt. I watch her walking, shocked at her snapping at me. “And for the record.” She turns and stops walking. “I’m not hungover.” She continues until she gets to the door, which has stairs written on it.
“You’re going to walk up seven flights of stairs?” I ask as she pulls open the door.
“If it means I don’t have to share an elevator with you,” she retorts, walking in the door, and it closes behind her. I jog over to the door, pull it open, and find her at the top of the first landing. “So help me God, Caine, if you follow me up these stairs, I quit.” She turns to look at me. “And I’m not joking. I will quit and walk out, which is probably something you’ve been trying to get me to do since I first started. But I’ve decided that I’m going to be a grown-up, you know, instead of the child you think I am, and stick around, even if you make my job fifteen times harder than it should be.” She shakes her head. “Incredible,” she mumbles as she walks up the steps and farther away from me. “Drunk. He’s insane. If anyone is pushing me to drink, it’s him.” I stand here listening to her talk to herself, and the only thing I can do is hang my head.