Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
I can smell the grilled cheese, and she’s even added tomatoes and spinach. The evidence is on the granite top of the island. I glance past her to the row of espresso cabinets and then around at the stainless appliances. The kitchen is big and spacious, but right now, it feels like it’s closing in on me.
“Actually…” Just eat the damn sandwich, you ungrateful bastard. “If I eat anything, there will probably be a repeat of the fish incident all over again. Except with a cleaner garbage can. That was truly nasty.”
Without arguing, Darby turns off the burner, moves the pan away, and goes to her purse, which is on the counter by the stove. She takes out a pack of mints and shakes two into her palm before holding them out to me. “A good mint always settles my stomach when I have anxiety.” She passes them over and walks into the living room. I follow her. Then, she grabs my sunglasses off the coffee table—where I threw them when I walked in earlier—and hands them to me.
“Should I call for a cab?”
“Please.” It seems to be the least I can do, letting her do it. Yeah, I really suck, and I know it. If you’re an ass and you know it, clap your hands—isn’t that how that song goes?
She dials something, watching me as she holds the phone to her ear, waiting for a real human to come on the line. “I want to kiss you right now, but you seem really unapproachable. I know you’re already going inside yourself. I’d really like the guy from the cabin back. Is there hope for his return?”
Yup. Calling me on my bullshit every single time.
Darby gets connected with a dispatcher right away, so I’m saved from having to answer. I told her I didn’t want the stupid sandwich a few minutes ago, but now I go to the kitchen and wolf it down with my back to the stove while I hear her talking. It’s actually delicious. Better than anything I’ve ever made myself, and that’s even without a pickle. Pickles and grilled cheese go together like…like…well, not like Darby and Leon. Because we don’t belong together.
I don’t go back into the living room. Instead, I walk to the front door and let myself out without saying anything to Darby.
“Hey. Leon!”
I turn around in the middle of walking down the steps to stand in the driveway. I forgot my sunglasses in the house, and the light out here is bright enough to be blinding. Fucking summer. Fucking August. Fucking fuck.
She races around to stand in front of me. I freeze as she reaches up and sticks my sunglasses on my face for me. God, this woman.
“It’s going to be okay,” she says softly. “There’s a cab super close by. They should be here any…oh. They’re right here.”
Thank goodness I can make a quick escape. I let Darby wish me luck as I race down the driveway and throw myself into the backseat. With a small sigh, I give the driver the address of the medical place since Darby put it into my work calendar before we left the cabin. She’s amazing like that. And also in every other way.
I’m basically having a meltdown without getting right into it and looking like it on the outside, but then again, I’m good at that. The good-at-that thing lasts for about three more blocks before the urge to throw up in my mouth hits me hard. The nerves make my stomach feel like a wreck, and my head swims with pain. I feel a little bit drunk as it’s pounding so hard.
“Can you turn around, please?” I ask the driver. “I need to go back home.”
“Uh, but we—”
“I forgot something,” I lie. “You don’t have to wait for me. It’ll take me a bit of time to get it sorted.”
“Okay, sure.”
He doesn’t sound sure, but he still pulls an illegal U-turn to the tune of horns blaring all over the place like we’re being chased by bad guys in an action movie. I grab the headrest of the passenger seat in front of me and refrain from cursing. I basically only chant Jesus Christ in my head forty-six-point-eight times. Thankfully, we don’t die.
I’m even more thankful to see my house coming into view a few minutes later. I peel off way too much money and thrust it to the front before getting the hell out of that car that felt more like a cage with every passing mile.
Darby is still sitting on my doorstep. She has her bag with her, and she’s obviously waiting for her own cab to show up. When she sees me, her huge blue eyes get even bigger. “Oh my god, what’s going on? Are you okay?”
Alright, so now that question annoys me.