Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 155798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 779(@200wpm)___ 623(@250wpm)___ 519(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 779(@200wpm)___ 623(@250wpm)___ 519(@300wpm)
I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
The pang was still in my chest. I hadn’t been able to swallow it away.
“I was into him, Lo. I really was.”
“Oh, Billie.” She reached for my hand, holding it tightly.
I turned it subtly, moving so her nails couldn’t squeeze in without her noticing.
“This is strike two.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
She let go of my hand, sitting back in her chair. “Strike one, he asked you for coffee and changed his mind. He got you so wrong with that assumption, and I’m not going into why he would think that about you, because you are not that kind of person. Strike two, he said he wanted to see you today. That changed to ‘call you,’ and it’s half past ten and he’s not reached out.” Her eyes turned shrewd, or as shrewd as they could because she was blitzed. “He’s going to call, you know. You’re a catch, and he knows it. Are you going to tell him about Travis this Friday night?”
“…he’s going to call, you know.” That shouldn’t have made me feel better, hopeful, but it did. I tried not to show it, giving her a shrug and looked down at my lap. “I don’t know.”
She gasped, jerking forward. It was one of Lo’s favorite reactions. She did it a lot. “No way! You’re going to tell him? Screw him. Give Travis a try. I’m telling you. Travis…” She lifted her glass, shaking her head. “Travis is a good one. He can protect you. He’s got a four-year degree. He’s been through the wringer with his ex. Give him a chance, Billie. I think sometimes the strong lust at first sight fizzles out. It’s the slow smoldering embers that can build into a bonfire. You mark my words on that one. I think Travis is an ember for you. He can tear down a forest, just give him enough oxygen.”
“Lo.” I was a little horrified. “A different metaphor, please.”
She winced. “Right. I’m sorry.”
“All the animals. You’re not thinking about all the animals that could die in a forest fire.” I shivered.
“I know. I’m sorry.” She glanced over her shoulder to the coop. “All the Miss Sylvia Riveras running around, scared, their little tails smoking.”
“Lo!”
She laughed. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll stop.” She paused. “The Marsha P. Johnsons’ little heads bobbing, running around so scared they’d probably run smack into a tree and keel over. The— ” She was going to keep going. My growl stopped her. Her grin turned lopsided. “No fire will harm our little hens. Dad made sure, reinforcing the coop with metal. If a fire breaks out here, we’ll have to take cover with them. Dad should add another extension, maybe put a couch in there for us.”
The serious talking was done, finally.
We chatted more about the hens, then moved on to how Roger wanted to get a dog and whether Lo was going to use getting a dog as collateral for maybe getting the pool she’d always wanted.
After that was sorted, after she’d decided she’d let him get two dogs for the pool, after Harold gave his swearing daughter a ride home and I crawled into bed, I looked at my phone.
Nothing from Brett.
My phone beeped thirty minutes later, flashing in the room.
I rolled over, grabbing it, ignoring the searing hope that filled my body.
Unknown: Hi! This is Travis. I just got off the phone with Lo. I’m supposed to call you tonight and cement my “chances.” It’s late, so I hope a text is sufficient? If it’s not, do me a favor. Don’t tell Lo. Just let me know, and I will up my efforts. I promise.
Also, she explained about Friday, and I’d love to catch some live music. We can go as friends, if that’s what you want. Give me a call sometime. I’d like to hear more about these hens Lo kept mentioning. Something about a chicken on fire?
I grinned, some of my disappointment easing, but I didn’t respond. I’d text him tomorrow.
Lying back down, my phone in my hand, I felt it buzz again.
I lifted it slowly, expecting another text from Travis, or even Lo letting me know she’d talked to Travis, and he might reach out.
Brett: Fuck. I’m sorry it’s so late. Are you still awake?
Nope. It wasn’t either of them.
I stared at the message, wondering why I cared so much? Why I’d obsessed about whether he was going to call all day? He could hurt me. He already had. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal to others if the guy texted the next day or when he texted, but he had time. People could text when they were on the toilet. I knew because that’s when I did most of my texting. It was one of my favorite places to text, but he hadn’t. He’d texted now, like I was an afterthought.