Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 117574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 588(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 588(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 392(@300wpm)
I wink at Charlotte. “I’ll be back soon.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
Butterflies. I’m feeling them, big-time. Even though I know I shouldn’t.
I jog to catch up to Ryan and the kids, and try, try, try, not to let myself imagine what it’d be like to put my two kids to bed upstairs while my wife, Charlotte, remained behind, pregnant and glowing with my baby in her belly, with her bestie in our back yard—the sprawling, perfect backyard of the dream home, and dream life, we’re building together.
22
CHARLOTTE
The minute our men and Tessa’s two cuties have disappeared through a sliding glass door leading into the house, Tessa leans forward, arches a dark eyebrow, and coos, “You and Auggie seem awfully cozy. Quite the one-eighty from the last time I saw you two together, when you wanted to wring the man’s neck.”
I try to play it cool. “It turns out, it’s hard to resist The Hottie Who Lives Next Door. Who knew?”
“Especially when he’s as sweet and adorable as Auggie. What a cutie pie.”
“I must admit, when I got to know him, I didn’t mind him looking like ‘The Dreamboat’ in a boy band nearly as much.”
Tessa snickers. “How big of you to make that concession.”
We crack up.
“I was a lunatic the day of that job interview,” I admit. “I was stressed out, and I took it out on him.”
Tessa tilts her head. “Speaking of job interviews, why didn’t you tell Auggie about yours today, especially after he mentioned his? Did you already tell him about it before coming over?”
“No, I haven’t told him. I figure the interview might not lead to anything, so why mention it?”
“You told me about it.”
I sure did. I texted Tessa excitedly the other day after receiving the email inviting me to interview, and then again today right after the interview ended to let Tessa know I thought I’d crushed it. “Telling you is different from telling Auggie,” I insist. “I always tell you everything.” Except that I don’t. Not anymore. Not since I found out what Carlo does for a living. Not since I picked up that fucking duffel bag full of cash. And certainly not since I’ve been doing all sorts of crazy things online with Auggie. I wish I could tell Tessa about all of it. But I’m too ashamed. Plus, I’m scared telling Tessa about Carlo’s world might put her and her family in danger, and I couldn’t live with myself if ever I did that.
“Do you think maybe you didn’t tell Auggie about today’s interview,” Tessa says tentatively, “because you’re starting to develop feelings for him, and you’re scared those feelings might make you reconsider the parameters and goals of your job search?”
Fucking Tessa. She’s just articulated my biggest fear—that I’ve been having so much fun with Auggie, a man I’ve known mere days, I might feel tempted to forego my professional goals for him. He’s still in school and will be for the next two years, for fuck’s sake. I can’t let myself get swept away like that—like a schoolgirl with a crush—no matter how much I might adore my hunky next-door neighbor.
I sip my wine calmly. “Auggie and I have already discussed it, maturely, and agreed we’re going to keep our fling fun and casual while I’m in Seattle.” I waggle my eyebrows. “You know, we’re gonna make like JT and the boys and keep things ‘No Strings Attached.’”
Tessa looks disappointed, despite my attempt at levity; but before she says anything in reply, the faint sounds of uproarious kiddie-giggling wafts from the open window above—the one leading into Zach’s second-floor bedroom. It’s the perfect distraction—an easy escape hatch out of this uncomfortable topic of conversation.
“Sounds like the kiddos are having a blast with Ryan and Auggie,” I say, popping up from the patio couch. “Come on, T. Let’s go spy on the kids and find out what’s making them laugh like little hyenas.”
At the top of the stairs, Tessa and I peek into Claire’s bedroom first, since it’s the first in the hallway, but it’s empty. From there, we creep to the next opened door—Zach’s bedroom—and discover the source of all that giggling. Both kids are sitting on the floor in their jammies while Auggie and Ryan, sitting shoulder to shoulder on Zach’s small bed, give them a puppet show with socks on their hands.
Not surprisingly, given that Augustus Vaughn is undoubtedly the mastermind of this puppet show, the plot turns out to be a silly affair that’s not really a plot at all—just a whole lot of puppet prat falls that elicit guffaws and unbridled joy from both kids.
Tessa whispers, “I’m swooning.”
Shoot. I wish so badly I could make a snarky comment in this moment about this being the most G-rated puppet show Superhero Salami Slinger has ever performed; but obviously, the identity of Auggie’s X-rated alter ego is a secret I’ll take to my grave. And so, what I whisper back to Tessa, instead, is, “My ovaries are exploding.”