Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 122514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Boo. Hiss. Thunderbolts.
I hated Keith.
Keith, the boss.
“—said that whoever booked the island, they have it for almost three weeks. He asked me to come back a couple times for their stay. He’s only using old staff. He wants the ones he can trust, so whoever it is, they’re a big deal. You should come.”
“And work there? Be your assistant? Get you coffee? A fan on command?”
He rolled his eyes. “No. I mean, didn’t you say you were trying to write a book?”
Oh, fuck. Either my social skills were seriously lacking or my tolerance to tequila was in the trenches.
“I said that?” I felt my face getting hot. What else had I said?
Trying to write a book hadn’t been my idea. It’d been my therapist’s, and yes, after eleven months, Lucas and the therapist had both been my attempts at getting a life again. And that was an exaggeration about writing a book. She might’ve said journal, but here’s me. I either overly commit or I don’t commit at all, and I walked out of that session hearing I needed to write a book.
Yeah. I’d written nothing.
“What?” Trent asked.
“Huh?”
He shook his head. “You zoned out on me.”
“I told you I was going to write a book?”
He nodded. “Were you not supposed to?”
“No, but it’s embarrassing.”
“Why’s that embarrassing? I think it’s a good idea. You can write about your life, about what you went through with Damian. It’s like an intensive therapeutic technique.”
Holy shit. He’d been talking to my therapist. Or Newt.
“My life sucks. It’d be the most depressing book ever.”
He laughed. “You’d be surprised. But hey, getting back to my question—are you still working at that data place?”
I used to work with data sets, but it was something I quit on behalf of my dignity. The owner had asked if I stole her laptop. I said no, and I quit. Okay. I might not have quit per se, but I still left without pointing out that it was her cheating husband who stole it. For his mistress. And I knew that because the mistress had come in the day before with the same laptop. He hadn’t even taken off the sticker that said Boss Bitch. Instead, the mistress had crossed it out and written Mine Now.
I felt she’d fired me because I kept quiet. But the mistress herself was revenge enough. I went in the other day to grab my last paycheck—she wouldn’t even mail it to me. And I saw she’d hired the mistress for the desk clerk position.
The two of us had a shared smirk moment.
I felt like I was telling her, “Give Meredith hell.” And the mistress was telling me, “I already have been, with him. In bed.”
She might not have been thinking that, but I had high hopes. She was probably more thinking, That’s the loser who got fired for what he stole for me. And she probably thought I was thinking, I’m scared of you, but please come clean so I can have my job back.
See? Joke was on her. Ha.
Either way, I’d decided to accept the assignment my therapist gave me: write about my life. I was embracing the idea. I did have a small nest egg in my savings account, and if there was any time to try something new, it was now.
Right?
Who was I kidding? I was scared shitless. I needed to get a new job and stat.
“Who do you think would win: a cockatoo or an otter?” I asked. Followed shortly by, “hashtagImight’vebeenfired.”
He didn’t respond, not right away. He just stared at me, and after I snuck a look at him, he rolled his eyes. Again.
“I’m not even going to ask, but hello?” He nudged my shoulder over the table. “This is perfect timing. You’re coming. Decision is made.”
It was like being in the last cell in a block, and one by one, I heard the doors shutting. I knew mine was coming, and I wanted to bolt, but I also knew I couldn’t. Long-term, it was better if I sat tight.
Lucas had dumped me.
I lost my job.
I had a book to write.
Get the feeling the universe is trying to tell you something?
Trent was looking at me, so smug and somehow I knew I’d just committed to this too.
Whether I was ready or not, Echo Island Camp, here I come.
Again.
I felt like a thirteen-year-old, all awkward and scared, not like my twenty-seven years. Oh, who was I kidding? My life had been more together back then than it was now. Maybe Trent was right. It was fate that I was coming here.
Trent had called ahead, making sure Keith had a position for me to fill. Trent had to leave after his speaking event tomorrow, but I’d be staying so we were going in separate cars the next day. My old boss had hired me for the whole three weeks whoever-it-was had booked the entire island.