Total pages in book: 14
Estimated words: 12932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 65(@200wpm)___ 52(@250wpm)___ 43(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 12932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 65(@200wpm)___ 52(@250wpm)___ 43(@300wpm)
Still, I missed Clay and Aria something fierce. I normally spent my whole summers with Aria, so it was a change to not be there with her. Aria, fortunately, was still healthy and called me every day since I landed in California. She often demanded me to ride to the beaches to take pictures, but she had no idea how expensive an Uber was to get there. She was out of her mind. I did send her pictures of my workspace and even a few from one night I went out with other interns for dinner and drinks. Clay picked up a gig as an assistant trainer for a minor football league in Atlanta.
It was my first day off in several weeks, and we’d only had the day off because of the Fourth of July. Normally on the Fourth, Aria would prep burgers, kabobs, and corn on the cob, then light up the grill so we could eat and watch the neighbor’s fireworks. There was a man named Ken down the block who always bought the most expensive fireworks. I’m pretty sure some of them were illegal, but we got a free show annually, so we didn’t care.
But this year was going to be different. I’d be spending the Fourth alone. But it was fine. I’d watch fireworks from my balcony and sip beer and make hot dogs on the indoor grill. That was the plan anyway, until I received a FaceTime call from Clay.
“Hey, babe,” I said as I unpackaged the hot dogs.
“Hey, send me your address,” he said. He had the phone at a low angle that revealed more of his chin than his face.
“Provide an explanation on why you need it and I might,” I said, laughing.
“Because I ordered flowers for you and want to make sure they go to the right place.”
“Aw! Are they peonies?” I asked, grinning.
He looked into the camera. “Possibly. Come on, hurry. Shoot it to me so I can let the delivery driver know.”
“Okay, okay.” I gave him the address to my rental.
“Cool.”
Then he hung up. I frowned, staring at the blank screen. “What the hell?” I shot him a text: “Thanks for hanging up in my face!”
I waited for his response as I warmed up the grill. As the hot dogs were grilling, there was a knock on the door; I washed my hands before making my way there. I checked the peephole and saw a big bouquet of peonies in front of it, with a large hand wrapped around the stems. The flower delivery guy.
But when I swung the door open, my heart sped up several notches because it wasn’t a flower delivery guy holding the flowers. It was Clay. He lowered the flowers with a wide, beautiful smile.
“I hung up in your face so I could be in your face right now,” he said, and I squealed as I bounced on my toes and threw my arms around him.
“Oh my God, Clay! What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you,” he said, chuckling as he steadied the flowers.
“How did you even get here? What the hell?” I laughed.
“Mom bought an airplane ticket for me when I told her I wanted to surprise you. There are no games this weekend for the minor league, so I flew straight here.”
“Wow. You’re insane,” I breathed. “You came all the way here for me?”
“Of course, I did. I love you.”
His lips landed on mine, and I swear I was the luckiest girl in the world. Clay Martin was mine now after all this time, after all these years. Mine.
I was never letting him go.