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 keep doing that, I won’t go anywhere, and I’ll be a pile of goo.” One of these moments, we’re going to have to confront what happened this morning, and since I’m being a chicken shit, it clearly won’t be me.
“I’ve got no problem massaging the trouble away.” Ezra’s whisper carries along my ear, doing nothing to calm my nerves, heightening a completely different issue. “And as much as I don’t want to break the calmness you’ve got going on right now, we need to talk about this morning.” My eyes slam shut, unsure how to navigate his statement. I take a deep breath and hold it in, probably longer than any healthcare worker would suggest. But it works, even though I’m seeing stars. I’m taken to a calmer place in time, then finally let it out once I can’t hold it in any longer. I do it one more time while Ezra’s hands move from my neck and shoulders until his arms are wrapped around my upper chest, stepping closer to me, blanketing me in his heat.
“Please don’t ruin the moment, not right now. I can only handle so much, and I’m right at the edge of my breaking point.” That cliff people talk about, being on the edge, where all you can see is the cavernous ruin, when you’re stepping back as much as you can, but the edge keeps disappearing, that’s me exactly right now.
“Alright, we’ll talk about it later. I will tell you this: I’m either at your place, or we’re at mine, none of this going to bed angry or without one another.” Never in all my years would I not confront someone who’s made me re-evaluate my personal life. I am today mainly because I’m not ready to say goodbye to Ezra. Also, I just can’t handle the mental and emotional upheaval.
“It’ll have to be my place tonight. I have paperwork to go through, a meeting with my bank on Monday, plus my bag isn’t packed or with me.” Usually I’d pack for the weekend, not going home until Monday. That won’t be happening this weekend. Tonight, I want to do some research on costs for how I’d like to improve Books and Brews and make it my own; the name isn’t trademarked or anything, so if Bonnie and Chad allow it, I’ll be able to keep it. What I’d love to do is have light wood built-ins added in the bookstore section. I’m talking floor-to-ceiling with a ladder on each side. Plus new couches, olive green and velvet in fabric. Throw pillows that have orange and mustard yellow tones. The walls all need to be repainted, too; the white walls are a glaring contrast to the orange-ish wood tones they’ve got going on now. I’ve got several boards online and magazine cut-outs of ideas. If I can buy it as is, make the changes slowly on the one day a week we’re closed, it won’t take long at all. The built-ins would take the longest, and even then, it’ll be worth t.
“That’s fine. Why don’t we do this. We’ll both wait for Justin. Once he’s done, we’ll go to the bank together. Then grab some food to cook at your place, and I’ll stay the night.” Ezra’s solution works. The only reason I usually drop the deposit off during daytime hours is for convenience, ease, and in my mind, it’s safer. I don’t know why I think the way I do; criminals don’t have a set of hours to abide by or anything.
“Alright. Not sure what you’re going to wear home tomorrow, but I have a spare toothbrush.” Sweep it under the rug, Millie, why don’t you.
“I’ll wear what I’ve got on. Appreciate the toothbrush, sunshine.” He kisses the top of my head, and I bury my head in the sand, unwilling to even think about how things are going to go when we finally confront the issue.
ELEVEN
Ezra
This morning when Millie woke up, it wasn’t before her alarm clock. She hit the snooze three times, each time rolling back over and snuggling deeper into my side. After Justin arrived, he took the espresso machine apart and repaired it, which in fact did need new blades to grind the coffee beans. A true smile was plastered on Millie’s face, basically an ‘I told you so’ without saying the words. That settled her down some, the stress from the machine being fixed. My driver stopped at the bank for her to do the deposit, then at a store to pick up a few items to cook dinner, and then we were at her place. It was nearly eight o’clock when we walked through the door to her apartment. I offered to cook our dinner, one of those take-and-bake meals, easy for a night when you’re dog fucking tired. Millie was slowly crashing. Dark circles appeared beneath her eyes, the slope of her shoulders sinking, so I sent her to grab a shower while I prepared our meal.