Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Needing something to wash the dry cracker down, I open the fridge and dig all the way to the back behind the dozens of takeout food containers I’ve collected and pull out the bottle of moscato my sisters brought over a few weeks ago. I don’t normally drink alone, but tonight seems like the kind of night when someone—a loser—such as myself would drink by herself. Twisting the cork out of the top, I dump the almost full bottle into one of my giant plastic tumblers and take a huge gulp, feeling it cool my dry throat on the way down, then burn my empty stomach. Shoving another cracker into my mouth, I chew and swallow while I grab my bowl of soup from the microwave, practically burning my hands off as I put it down on the counter. With one more large gulp of wine, I find the tray my mom also brought over when I was sick, put everything on it, and carry it over to the couch. The moment I sit, Muffin hops up next to me.
“Happy birthday to me,” I mutter, picking up a handful of crackers and dumping them into my soup.
“Ruff.”
“Thanks, girl. I love you, too.” I pat Muffin’s head, then toss her a cracker that she catches, then spits immediately on the floor. Looking at the cracker, then her, I shake my head, find the remote, turn on the television, and flip through for something to watch.
“Oh god . . .” I breathe through my tears, resting my fingers against my lips as Hilary Swank reads another message from Gerard Butler. “Why did he have to die?” I sob right along with Hilary not for the first time since starting this movie, then my head flies up as someone knocks on the door. Wiping my face with the sleeve of my sweatshirt, I hop off the couch and press “Pause” on P.S. I Love You as I step over the dishes I set on the floor, along with the pile of Kleenex. Knowing my sisters probably ignored me and decided to show up anyway, I open the door without checking who it is—regretting the lapse in judgment when I find Levi on the other side.
“Uh, hi . . .” I move my eyes past his shoulder toward the hall to see if his girlfriend is with him.
“Hey,” he says softly, then lifts up my chin, and his eyes scan mine. “What the hell is wrong?”
“Nothing.” I tug my face away from his fingers when his touch practically burns me.
“Something’s wrong, you’ve been crying.”
“I was watching a movie.”
“You were watching a movie?”
“Yes, I was watching a movie,” I huff, dropping my eyes to glare at Muffin when she whines and paws the door to get to him. Traitor.
“What movie are you watching?”
“It doesn’t matter, did you need something?” I ask, looking in the vicinity of his chin, not having the willpower to look him in his beautiful eyes.
“You didn’t knock.”
“Pardon?” I frown, trying to keep up, but the wine sloshing around in my system is making it difficult.
“Can you look at me?” Reluctantly my eyes meet his, and I hold on to the doorjamb to keep standing as my head grows dizzy from the wine I’ve drunk.
“Why does he have to be gorgeous?” I think—or think I think it, but his lips curve into a very sexy smirk, letting me know I’m drunker than I think I am.
“You think I’m gorgeous?”
“I . . . um . . .” I shake my head.
“Have you been drinking?” he asks suddenly, and I pull myself up to stand at my full height, then tip slightly to the side.
“I had a cup of wine.”
“A cup of wine?”
“Yes, a cup of wine. Are you going to repeat everything I say?”
“Okay . . . What the fuck is really going on?” he growls, and I automatically lean back.
“Nothing is going on. It’s my birthday, I—”
“I know it’s your birthday. That’s why I brought you a cake,” he cuts me off, and I blink. Um, what? Did he just say he brought me a cake? He holds a pink box up between us that I didn’t notice before. I look at it, then him. “My sister-in-law owns a bakery. She was coming into the city today, so I had her bring a cake for you.”
“What?” I breathe.
“Jesus.” He rubs the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath, then puts his hand to my belly. When he pushes me back into my apartment I almost fall, but I stumble into him as his hand grabs onto the front of my hoodie and he pulls me roughly into his hard chest . . . Unfortunately he does it with the box holding the cake, so it’s flattened between us.
“Oh no,” I whisper, looking from the box to his somewhat amused and slightly pissed, very handsome face.