Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 37200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
“If you’d move your ass into the city, it’d be mighty helpful right about now.” Parker and I have been trying to convince her for years to move closer to us. We’ve offered to buy her a house, pay for all the moving fees, but she won’t budge. The house she lives in now is the one both her boys grew up in, and Mom isn’t ready to move.
“If Parker or you would give me something to move for, then I would.”
“Your sons aren’t enough? You’re holding a baby over our heads to get you closer? Hmph, that sounds like blackmail.” The rate Nessa and Parker go at each other, they’ll have a child by the time I’m ready to get my shit together.
“I mean well. You guys are, but I’d be in the way right now. I’m not that mom who lives vicariously through her kids. Once you both are settled down, it’ll be another story. Until then, I’ve got a doctor to chase after.”
“God, that poor man has no idea what’s coming for him. Love you, Mom. Don’t forget to call Parker and irritate him. He’s working from the house today.” Maybe he’ll get her to finally move out of our old neighborhood, one that no matter how much you invest in isn’t being revived. Believe me, Parker and I tried. Money didn’t help it, even when we bought a few houses, flipped them to help others at a decent rate. Nothing helped. We still own the houses, rent them out, but we know the return will be minimal, if not a complete loss, when Mom does decide to move.
“Oh, goodie, I’ll do that. Call me if you need help shopping, honey. Love you. Bye!”
“Love you, too.” I hang up the phone. I’ve got a lot of shit to get done and not a lot of time to do it in.
FOURTEEN
Millie
Ezra handled as much as he could for me, my business plan was solid, and the outfit Vanessa walked me through via FaceTime was perfect. It was changing in the bathroom stall of the coffee shop that was hard. If I had more time, I would have gone to my house or Ezra’s. Since my appointment with Perry was at four and the shop closed at three, hustling at the shop was the only option. I paired the one pair of dress slacks I own—high waisted, wide legged, dark green in color—with a white blouse. The buttons are polished gold, giving it a vintage retro feel. The mustard yellow velvet heels gave the outfit an pop of color. It was perfect in keeping myself professional while also keeping true to myself.
“Honey, I’m home,” I tell Ezra as I walk out of the elevator, feeling good about the meeting after we worked through things. I can be patient; Ezra is completely worth it. He doesn’t respond. I walk through the foyer, placing my bag on the big round table in the middle. The thought of work has me ready to shut down. I’m not going to pour over any paperwork tonight, or the schedule for Books and Brews. All I want is a glass of crisp white wine, dinner that’s loaded with carbs, and to relax with Ezra.
“That’s weird.” It’s quiet, and there’s no response. Bill let me know Ezra was in for the night. Maybe he’s in the home office. I shrug my shoulders, making my way into the kitchen. Interrupting him while in a meeting isn’t on my list of fun things to do. I’m stopped in my tracks. On the kitchen counter is exactly what I need and want—a glass of wine, a bottle, a plant, and a handwritten note.
Millicent,
I’m so proud of you. The sky is the limit. Enjoy your glass of wine and then meet me upstairs.
Ezra
My heart beats faster, wilder, butterflies overwhelming my stomach. The Ezra I’ve seen over the past few days has done a complete one-eighty. I never thought I’d see the day. It wasn’t me giving him an ultimatum either, because every woman knows there is no changing a man, a red flag for sure to yourself if you thought it would ever work. So, this right here, it’s another way Ezra is showing me he’s working on himself for himself.
I grab the automatic wine opener, an added feature in his place since I’ve spent a lot of time here, the swirl of the machine working its way to take care of the cork without so much as taking the foil wrapper off. Perfect for not cutting yourself, too. I admire the plant and the fact that Ezra thought about doing something non-traditional, like a dozen roses that will eventually wilt away and die. Sure, you can press them in a book or a glass frame. This, though, means so much more, and it’s long lasting, as long as you don’t kill a plant, that is. Vanessa would, completely. Green thumb she is not. Black is a more apt description. My grandmother and I used to work in her small garden every weekend. Still, when I’m over there, we find ourselves puttering in the backyard, propagating plants so I can add them to Books and Brews. My thoughts go back to the letter. I’m saving that forever, placing it in the box under my bed that holds a few other things from our time together. I grab the bottle of wine and pull the glass closer to me. A healthy pour later, and I’m heading upstairs. There’s no way my anxious self could wait a second longer. The heels on my feet carry me out of the kitchen up the two sets of stairs. I notice along the way that Ezra’s office door is open, not a light on, meaning he wasn’t in his office to begin with. And still, I’ve yet to calm down in any way, shape, or form. I could recite affirmations, quotes from movies, but nothing is going to make me relax until Ezra is in my sight.