Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“You’re the best.” She sipped her tea. “Sit with me for a minute?”
“You need rest.”
“Come on, just for a minute.” She patted the bed beside her. “I feel awful you’re missing your flight.”
“Don’t.” I lowered myself onto the mattress and leaned back on one arm, my hand on the far side of her legs. “I’d rather be here with you than go back to that empty apartment.”
She smiled. “You need a cat or something.”
“I’d like to get a dog. But it wouldn’t really be fair to have an animal when I’m gone so often.”
“Do you think you’ll always travel so much?”
“Hard to say. I suppose at some point, I’ll have to slow down. Give up the danger.”
“Is what you do for work really dangerous?” She looked worried.
“Sometimes. But I’m careful.”
“Would you ever want to do something else?”
I shrugged. “Sometimes I think about opening a whiskey bar or something. If I ever got tired of what I do now. Or of being away from home so much. But . . . I don’t even really know where I’d do it.”
“Not San Diego?”
“I could,” I said. “I’ve been based in San Diego for the last five years. But I don’t know if it’s where I’ll stay for good.”
“Why not? Don’t you like it?”
“I do.” I searched for words. “There’s just something about it that doesn’t feel like home.”
“Is there a place that does feel like home? Maybe Cleveland?”
I shook my head. “Not really. I think I’ve moved so much since joining the Navy that I never really got attached to any one place.”
She nodded. “I get that.”
“Did you ever consider moving away from here?”
“If I’d have gone into fashion design, I probably would have. New York, probably. Or maybe even Paris or Milan.” She smiled. “But I feel like even if I’d moved to one of those far-off cities, this would always be home to me. Because it’s where my family is. Where my heart is.”
“Yeah.” I leaned over and kissed her forehead. “I ordered some lunch for us. Or dinner. It’s after three, so I don’t even know what this meal is. I got Italian.”
“Perfect.” She set her mug on the nightstand as I rose to my feet.
“You rest. I’ll let you know when it gets here.”
“Okay. And Zach?”
Already at the doorway, I turned around. “Yeah?”
“Thank you for this.” She touched her heart. “It means a lot to me. It feels a little strange because I’m not used to being the one taken care of, but . . . I like it.”
I smiled at her and tapped the doorframe. “Good.”
When the food arrived, I went up and peeked at her, but she was asleep. I ate sitting at her kitchen table alone, under the watchful gaze of her cats. “Relax,” I told them. “I’m here for good, not for evil.”
While I was eating, Millie wandered down to the kitchen, looking mussed and sleepy, a blanket wrapped around her. “Hi.”
“Hey.” I got to my feet and pulled a chair out for her. “Sit down. How are you feeling?”
“A little better, I think.” She shuffled over to the table and sat down.
“You don’t sound much better.” I brought her a plate and fork. “What would you like? I have two different pastas, some chicken, some meatballs, a salad, some sausage and peppers . . .”
She started to laugh, then coughed into her elbow. “This is enough food for ten people.”
I grinned. “I was hungry when I ordered. Point at what you like, it’s all good.”
She indicated what she wanted, and I put everything on her plate, then brought her another glass of water and a napkin.
“Thank you. Did you rebook your flight?” she asked.
“Not yet.” I sat down again and started back in on my seconds. In all honesty, I wasn’t in any hurry to leave.
Once we said goodbye this time, that was it. It had to be.
“Not that I want you to go,” she went on. “I just don’t want anyone to see you. And I’m sure you have things to get back to.”
“Not really,” I said.
She looked over at me in surprise. “No jobs?”
“Nothing this week.” I lifted my water glass. “I could stay a couple days.”
Her jaw stopped chewing and she set down her fork. Swallowed. Studied her hands in her lap. “Zach. It’s not that I don’t want you here. I do. But . . . is this wise?”
“I could stay inside,” I said, although I had a feeling she wasn’t just talking about being seen.
She picked up her fork again and took a small bite of a meatball. “I have to work this week.”
“That’s okay. I could see you when you got home. Unless you’re busy after work too.”
“No,” she said. “If I had time, I was going to get a Christmas tree.”
“A real one?”
She nodded. “I was going to ask my dad if he could help me cut one down one day after work.” A little grin appeared. “I’m not all that handy with a saw.”