Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Anna stares at the painting. “No. I picked it out during the remodel. I fell in love with it at an art expo downtown.”
Fuck my life.
“Well, it was nice knowing you.” I pick up my bag and reach for the door handle.
“Where are you going?”
I pause, hanging my head. “I never say the right thing. I’m always saying the wrong word to you. And it’s always an unintentional insult. I should stop speaking. There’s a reason I’m single. I don’t know how to keep my mouth shut.”
“I’m not offended,” she says.
When I get the nerve to face her, she smiles.
“You don’t have to like my taste in art. In music. Food. Books …”
“But I don’t have to show my distaste for things you like outwardly.”
“True.” Anna smirks. “But you said it yourself; it’s unintentional. So let’s go. I need out of here.” She nods toward the door.
After pausing to let my reluctance work its way out of my conscience, I open the door for her, and we take a drive. She rolls down the window and lets the wind tangle with her blond hair.
Eyes closed.
Lips bent into a beautiful smile.
After miles of nothing but the wind and radio filling the space around us, I take the next exit and pull into Wendy’s.
“What are you doing?” Anna opens her eyes and lifts her head.
“I’m feeling a Frosty.”
“A Frosty?”
“Yeah. Want one?”
“Uh …”
“It’s one of the five original menu items. A classic.” I lower the window to order. “Two Frosties.”
“And a small fry.” Anna shrugs. “What are you going to dip in the Frosty?”
I chuckle, turning toward the speaker. “And a large fry.”
“You know, there are a bunch of great places to get ice cream here.”
“But only one place to get my favorite Frosty.”
“Is it a little odd that you know the Frosty is one of Wendy’s original five menu items?”
“Not at all.” I wait for the car in front of us to pull away from the window.
We get our Frosties and fries and park in the lot. Anna dips a fry into her Frosty, and I do the same.
“I’m supposed to be working,” she says. “I asked for more work because I’ve been going stir-crazy.”
“And I’ve derailed your day?” I offer her an apologetic frown around my straw. “I’ll take you home after we’re done here, and I’ll leave you to get your work done.”
“Leave me? And go where?”
“Home.”
“Stop.” She giggles. “You can’t fly to Nashville just for a drive and a stop at Wendy’s.”
“I can. It would serve me right for showing up unannounced.”
“You showing up unannounced is the best thing that’s happened to me since the last time you showed up unannounced.”
I bite back my automatic brush-off of her compliment. Instead, I use my next breath to say everything I’ve already said in a text. Maybe it will land better now that we’re face-to-face. Or maybe it will mean more because so much time has passed. “Anna, I’ve had so much time to think about this. I’ve tried to say it a dozen ways, hoping one way might resonate and make things better. What happened between us was unavoidable. I know why you didn’t tell me it was your book—”
“Eric—”
“No.” I shake my head. “I have to say this. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was natural for me to have an opinion of something that seemed inconsequential. But it was just as natural for you to feel heartbroken because it was anything but inconsequential to you. I wish I had seen it clearer, but I was too invested in us. I was angry that something was coming between us. And all I could see was that it was ‘just’ a book. I felt betrayed, but I didn’t know why. You weren’t trying to lie to anyone. You were taking a risk that felt necessary to you. And I see that now. But I deeply regret taking out my frustration over us on your manuscript. I regret making you feel like anything less than a talented and brave person for following your dreams. Every word I said was wrong—most were unintentionally wrong. But there were words exchanged that I wish I could take back even though I know it wouldn’t have changed our outcome. And for those words, I’m so sorry.”
She stirs her Frosty with a fry; it’s so soaked I think it might break off and drown. “I was …” She lifts her gaze, a blank stare aimed at the car parked in front of us. “I was immature. My ego engulfed everything and everyone around me. And I was blinded by the feeling that I left a part of myself in that story. I couldn’t see the forest through the trees. I couldn’t separate myself from the book. So I knew—I thought I knew—that you really didn’t like me if you didn’t like this…” she shakes her head, closing her eyes “…this thing that felt like a part of me that I loved so much.”