Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
“No one refers to Costco when they say club.”
She whipped out her executive card and flashed it at him as proof. “I have a membership, therefore it’s a club.”
As always, Romeo succumbed to his wife’s shenanigans, arranging for his driver to take us. A pang of envy zapped through me. I wanted what Dallas and Romeo shared.
Would I get my happily ever after? The possibility that the thirty days would end and Zach would stand me up licked at the fringes of my brain the entire car ride.
That was the thing about giving someone your heart. There was always a chance you’d never be whole again.
At Costco, we sampled every cart, then went around for seconds, thirds, and fourths until security kicked us out.
Dallas was right.
Nothing cured depression like a trip to the club.
Maybe I was a little down.
After all, I carried the key inside my bra, right above my heart.
The organ that would shatter the second I used it.
T-MINUS 23 DAYS.
To: dreileenyang@sapphireclinic.com
Fr: zacharysun@suninternational.com
Subject: Breach of Contract
Miss Yang,
You have failed to respond to countless attempts of contact, which has resulted in a dire breach of contract of Article XVII, section 8, subsection m, paragraph 2.
I’ve attached an annotated copy of our contract below with the relevant portion highlighted.
To avoid a severe penalty, I suggest you contact me for further discussion. Future breaches of contract will result in immediate legal action.
Regards,
Zachary Sun
CEO, Sun International Inc.
T-MINUS 22 DAYS.
Isurvived my first week without Zach.
During that week, I met with cops and lawyers to discuss the case, hung around the Costa house with Dallas and occasionally Frankie (much to Romeo’s displeasure), and avoided staring at the key, which I finally shoved deep into one of the birthday shoes from Zach.
Today, Dallas had managed to convince me to watch a local youth fencing tournament. Paranoia tingled up and down my limbs as I speed-walked to the bleachers, chin down.
“Slow down. My belly bounces against my thighs each time I take a step.” Dallas latched onto my arm. “You know, everyone’s looking at you because of what you’re wearing.”
I wore my waves tucked into a baseball cap, black-out sunglasses blocking my eyes, and the striped uniform of a bowling alley I’d recently picked up a shift at, just for a little pocket money until the house sold.
Vera had agreed to put it on the market, since she needed money for her mounting legal fees.
Dallas and I settled into a seat for two seconds before she turned her nose up, sniffing. “What’s that scent?”
“Puke.” I groaned, shaking out my uniform. “The con of women’s suffrage. We girls have girl-bossed too close to the sun, and now we’re spending our weekends cleaning up puke instead of reading books in the hot tub.”
“Speak for yourself.” She scrunched her nose. “I binge-watched all seasons of One Tree Hill this week while you worked.”
The scent of acid wafted up from my shirt. I stood, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “I’m gonna wash up and change.”
Dallas waved me off, already lost in the competition.
The familiar symphony of swords clashing tickled my ears. I wanted to stand near the piste, close to the action, but I didn’t feel the urge to suit up.
Odd.
On my way back from the bathroom, I ran into a fencer, practicing her lunges in the hall. I’d spotted her warming up earlier with the other under-14 girls.
I hesitated near the entrance back into the gym, still in my glasses and hat. “You’re an épéeist, right?”
She nodded, her face screaming stranger danger. “I’m up next.”
“I noticed you practicing.” I bounced from foot to foot, wondering if I was overstepping. “You’re focusing too much on fancy moves instead of distance and timing. Focus on your basic footwork, and you’ll end up seconds ahead of your opponent.”
“Really?”
I shrugged, realizing I’d only ever taught Zach, who was a natural. “Just food for thought.”
And yet, I found myself leaning forward when the announcer called out her name and the match began.
Anna lost the first two touches, too hellbent on making snappy moves.
Footwork, kid. Focus on your advances and retreats.
“Ow.” Dallas jerked her arm out beneath my grip. Whoops. “You need a chill pill. You don’t even know her.”
“I know, but…”
But what?
But you still love the sport. You love analyzing fencers. You love the thrill of the game. You just… don’t want to compete anymore.
I reeled back at the realization, lost in my thoughts.
Not for long.
Anna lost another point, a step behind her opponent.
I shot up and cupped my hands around my mouth. “Focus on your footwork.”
“Oh my God.” Dallas shrunk in her seat as much as she could with her pregnant belly. “Is this how Romeo feels when I debate cheese versus no cheese at fast food drive-thru windows and there are cars behind us?”
But I didn’t care.
It worked.
Anna won three points back-to-back, catching up on the scoreboard. And when she finished her bout 15-11, I jumped into the air, cheering as if I’d coached her myself.