Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“Ugh. Fine. So what’s your plan when you meet him?”
I winced. “I don’t exactly have one. I guess I just come clean and win him over with my sparkling personality?”
Summer and Charlie exchanged looks. “Oh boy. I think we better start packing.”
I was a nervous wreck by the time eight o’clock rolled around. Standing in front of the door to Salty’s, I took a deep breath and wiped my sweaty palms on my sundress. I still had no idea what I was going to say, other than to apologize for not coming clean sooner. A big part of me wanted to just turn around and run back home. But something about Silas felt like he might be worth taking the risk.
As I stood in front of the entrance and debated fleeing, the door opened and a couple walked out. The man held the door for me to go in, which abruptly ended my stalling. I walked inside the bar with my heart pounding against my rib cage. Glancing around, it looked like Salty’s was even more packed than usual. I held my breath while I scanned the faces at the bar first. Twenty or so people sat on stools, and a few were standing. The majority were couples, but there was also a group of women on one end and then two guys down at the other. Though, there was no Silas wearing sunglasses. So I turned to check out the tables in the adjoining open seating area. Almost every one was taken, and my eyes nervously skimmed over each one.
A couple holding hands.
A foursome of friends that I was certain weren’t over the legal drinking age.
Two older women sharing nachos.
Perusing at least a dozen full tables, my heart stopped when I landed on a pair of sunglasses. A man was sitting alone, toward the back by the restroom. Taking in the full person, I blew out a ragged sigh of relief. The guy was probably in his sixties, and his sunglasses were more like my grandfather’s blue blockers than a pair of aviators. He wore a red bandana wrapped around his head do-rag style, a Hawaiian shirt buttoned only to his navel, and a white shell necklace hung around his neck.
Definitely not my hot landlord.
Since I’d been staring, the guy must’ve thought I was checking him out. He smiled and waved, and I chuckled to myself and returned the polite gesture.
I finished scanning the room and found no sign of Silas. Checking the time on my phone, I realized I was five minutes early. I’d probably just beaten him here. My nerves were pretty damn frazzled, so I went to the bar to get a glass of wine to help calm down before he arrived. Fifteen minutes later, I started to wonder if maybe I was going to be stood up. But it was only ten after eight, so perhaps he was just late.
At eight fifteen and still no sign of my date, I finished my wine and decided to go to the bathroom. If Silas didn’t show up by the time I came out, I’d call it a night. I left my empty glass on the bar and headed to the restroom. Inside the stall that had started it all, I stared at the note about calling Mr. Good Time and it made me sad. But I wondered if perhaps I’d come full circle, and this moment here in the restroom was my time to say goodbye to any hope of developing anything further with him.
After finishing up, I stood at the back of the bar near the restroom and again scanned the place. Once again finding no sign of Silas, my shoulders slumped.
Oh well. I guess it isn’t meant to be.
I was disappointed, but also a little relieved at the same time. Ready to head home, I weaved my way through the dining area tables toward the front door. As I was about to pass one in particular, the person seated stood. It was the old man with the sunglasses. He smiled at me.
“Are you Lola?”
My brows furrowed. “Yes?”
He flashed a sparkly set of capped teeth. “I thought that might be you. I’m Silas.”
What the fuck?
I pointed. “You’re…Silas.”
“The one and only.” With his foot, he slid the chair across from him out as if to prompt me to sit down.
Panic ran through me. Could I have been mistaken about the younger man I met being the same person I’d been talking to? I stood there frozen, trying to wrap my head around this. What if the guy at the house that day wasn’t Silas? Maybe this Silas—the real Silas—hired that other guy to collect the clothes? Maybe this was Silas and that was…his son or something? Maybe they sound alike?
What is happening?
“You look like ya just seen a ghost,” he said.