Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 75243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“I’d like that.”
Still, cupping my face in his hands, he lowers his mouth to mine and kisses me slowly and tenderly. It feels like a silent promise of what’s to come the next time I see him.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Berk
“Why are you here on a Saturday morning, young man?”
I glance over my shoulder to see Mrs. Hosek with a cup of coffee in her hand. Normally, she’s dressed to the nines for work, but today she’s wearing a pair of jeans and a puffy red coat. Her hair is curled around her face.
It brings back memories of a day decades ago when I saw her and her late husband at a bodega.
I tugged on my mom’s hand to get her to notice that my teacher was shopping. Up to that point, I viewed Mrs. Hosek as a superhero of sorts with her hair styled into tidy buns and her knee-length skirts and floral patterned blouses.
Outside of the classroom, she seemed like a different person to me.
Since she’s started working for me, I’ve come to know her better, but there’s still an aura of mystery around her that I like.
Shoving both hands into the front pockets of my jeans, I turn to face her. “I could ask you the same question.”
“Are you going to?” She tilts her head.
“Am I going to what?”
“Ask me why I’m here,” she says, placing the coffee on the corner of her desk.
It’s probably her first of the day.
I’ve downed two cups already.
I was up shortly after five this morning, even though my head didn’t hit my pillow until two. I couldn’t sleep.
I took off for a run before dawn, and by the time I got home, I was ready for a shower and a coffee.
I followed that up an hour later with breakfast and another coffee at a diner a few blocks from here. That brought me to my office since I don’t intend to pick up Stevie from Keats and Maren’s until early afternoon.
“Why are you here?” I ask because I’m curious whether she’ll answer the question or not.
“First, I want you to tell me why you’re here,” she bounces back.
I laugh. “Fine. I came in to pick up a manuscript. I’ll give it a read through over the weekend.”
“Wrong answer,” she blurts out.
I hold in a smile. “What?”
She points at my desktop computer. “You can access any files on there from your computer at home. I’ve known you a long time, Berk. You can’t lie to me.”
Suddenly, feeling like I’m back in her classroom trying to explain myself after pushing a kid who insulted Gaines, I shake my head. “I’m not lying.”
She shrugs. “Fine. You’re avoiding the truth then.”
I scrub the back of my neck. “I needed to get out of the house for a few hours.”
She steps closer to me. “I understand that.”
She’s referring to how stir crazy she went after her husband’s sudden death. She explained all of that to me after Layna died. She warned me I’d want to crawl out of my skin in need of an escape. She told me not to fight it but embrace it, but that’s not what’s happening today.
I haven’t felt that in a long time.
I haven’t felt much in years, until now.
“I’m a great listener.” She sighs. “That comes with being a teacher. Do you know how many parents confided in me over the years?”
“Hundreds,” I repeat the answer to that question since she’s offered it to me countless times in the past.
She’s proud that she not only taught young minds but also helped guide many parents toward a solution to their problems.
She nods. “That’s right, so spit it out, Berk.”
I pick a piece of lint off the sleeve of the black sweater I slipped on before leaving my home. “There’s nothing to spit out.”
She eyes me. “It’s a woman.”
Goddammit.
I have yet to sort through my feelings about what happened last night. I sure as hell don’t need to dump all of that in the lap of my fourth grade teacher, or anyone, for that matter.
I’ve learned how to expertly navigate my emotions.
I like Astrid. I shocked the hell out of myself when I chose to take her home instead of to bed. It was the right decision. I know it was, yet, part of me wants nothing more than to go to Vinyl Crush, take her up to her apartment and bury my cock inside her.
“Why don’t you tell me why you’re at the office on a Saturday morning, Mrs. Hosek?”
A lighthearted laugh escapes her. “At least I know I hit the nail on the head. I’m glad you’re putting yourself out there, Berk. You deserve to be happy.”
I nod in acknowledgment but steer the conversation back to where I want it to be. “What brought you here today?”
She places her brown leather laptop bag on her desk. “My neighbors.”