Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
It occurs to me, as I’m driving over to Sutton’s house, that I’m doing the exact thing she asked me not to do. I know it’s rude, assumptive, and borderline egotistical to assume I can just knock on her door and…and do what?
I use the miles between the office and Sutton’s grandma’s house to figure it out.
What exactly can I say?
I didn’t give you any cause to hope I might feel the same because everyone knows I’m a massive dick.
About my massive dick…uh, I hope you don’t feel it was better that I never—uh—stuck it in you.
About all of it, I’m sorry I pretended like it never happened. I honestly didn’t think that, and I wasn’t trying to erase you. I’m just emotionally stunted.
It’s been so long since I felt anything that I basically went into full-on panic mode, not panic attack but panic mode—there is a difference—and had to block it all out and shut down completely.
I finally decide, when I’m within a couple of blocks from her grandma’s, that I’m sorry for everything. I don’t want you to quit, and I don’t want to lose you. I was scared. I was dumb. But I don’t want to be scared or dumb anymore. Or at least, if I am, I want to be them with you, might suffice.
I hope so. I’ve never been good with words. I know the second I pull up, all the words will probably slide right out of my mind, and I’ll be left standing at the door with nothing to say.
And of course, it’s exactly what happens. I completely freeze. The doorbell is right in front of me, but I can’t even bring myself to ring it. My tongue is so dry that I might as well have just walked this whole way with it dragging along the road.
The door creaks open before I can even ring the doorbell, and Sutton’s grandma eyes me like I might be there to sell her something she already has. I’m not peddling the good stuff. No chocolate bars or cookies.
I swallow so thickly that it makes a strange noise. Those grandma eyes of hers narrow.
“I—is—I was wondering if I could…uh…talk to…Sutton? If she’s here?”
“She’s sick. She said she called into work. Did you not believe her and had to come and see for yourself?” Sutton’s grandma is about five feet tall and slim enough that from the back, she could pass as a twelve-year-old girl, but when she scowls at me, that shit is fierce. A shiver crawls up my back, and I can literally feel my nuts tightening up as if in a second, this tiny old lady is going to pull a cleaver on me and turn my nuts into sushi.
Sick? She called in sick? Apparently, Sutton didn’t tell her grandma she actually quit. It’s not my business to bear the news, so I try and stammer out a response. “No—err—I just wanted to make sure she was okay. She never calls in sick. I was worried.” I think it’s a smooth recovery until two grey brows knit together. They’re the exact same shade as the fluffy, loosely permed grey curls on top of the little lady’s head.
“Do you check up on all your other employees when they call in sick after never calling in sick?”
So. She has me there. I practically shrink back. Thank god, she takes mercy on me.
“Well, come in then. It just so happens I was baking cookies. With the gluten stuff. Regular flour. But I can make another batch.”
“That’s really not necessary…”
“What else am I going to do with my time? I’m just sitting here waiting to die. Might as well make good use of my time.” Her wrinkled face remains serious for a few seconds, but then she bursts into a grin so big, I swear her false teeth just about fly right out of her mouth. “I’m kidding. I know I have at least five good years left in me.”
I stand there stupidly until Sutton’s grandma flings the door open. “Well? Are you coming in, or are you just going to stand out there?”
“I’m coming.” I go to step inside, but all of a sudden, Sutton appears behind her grandma. It makes the older woman jump nearly a foot in the air.
“Sweet sugared socks, you know I hate when you do that.”
“Sorry,” Sutton whispers.
She looks pale, and her face is almost completely white. On her forehead, there are little beads of moisture along her hairline. Her hair is pulled back into a tight bun on top of her head, and she’s wearing a plain grey t-shirt and black yoga pants. It might be her pajamas, but I’m not sure. She’s dressed more casually than I’ve ever seen her, and she’s absolutely gorgeous.
“Try to announce yourself next time before you give your old granny a heart attack. Anyway, I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”