Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
I nodded, my shoulders heavy. “That’s the irony of it. I was finally taking steps forward, and he went backwards.”
The first tear fell and then all hell broke loose. Once it started, I couldn’t stop it. I sobbed like I hadn’t in years. The cry felt so monumental—I wasn’t just losing a boyfriend, I was losing Drew all over again, too. My heart had betrayed him for another man, and now I mourned for two losses.
Indie hugged me tight. “Let it all go, honey. Let it all go.”
“Could you tell CUM that you need more work done on your laptop?” Indie craned her neck, following the handsome—and very young—IT guy as he walked from my office to the elevator bank.
I flipped open my computer, signed in, and checked that all of my files were intact. They were only updating my virus software, but last time I’d handed my laptop to anyone for maintenance, a week’s worth of research had disappeared. I clicked on the Steel folder and pulled up my itinerary for tomorrow.
“You sure you don’t mind doing this?”
“Are you crazy? I can’t wait.” Indie’s cell phone buzzed. She looked down, smirked, and turned the phone to face me. The screen displayed a cartoon picture of a jackrabbit.
I downloaded last week’s game statistics from the company database as she answered. “Devin, sweetie. Can you do me a favor?”
I half listened to one side of the conversation as Indie asked her neighbor to feed her fish.
“The food? Yes. It’s in my bedroom. The small end table next to the bed.” There was a pause and then, “That would be great. How about if I make you some dinner when I get back to thank you?”
She was smiling like a Cheshire cat when she hung up.
“What are you up to?”
“Nothing. Just being a friendly neighbor and asking Devin to feed my fish.”
“And you keep the fish food in your bedroom drawer?”
She shrugged. “It’s Manhattan. Storage is at a premium.”
I squinted at my all-too-happy friend. “What else is in the drawer?”
She stood. “Why, whatever do you mean?”
“Did you or did you not just direct Pothead to go into your drawer that contains a vibrator and fish food?”
“No!”
My face called bullshit.
“It doesn’t have a vibrator in it. Moved that to my underwear drawer.”
She walked to my office door. “It has black lace lingerie, fur handcuffs, condoms, and flavored lotion. Leave at ten tomorrow?”
“Yes. And Indie?”
“Hmmm.”
“Thank you for doing this.”
I’d barely slept last night. The thought of having to go into the Steel locker room tomorrow and pretend that everything was fine made me feel like vomiting.
I wasn’t sure what I thought would happen after I ran out of the Regency four days ago, but it certainly wasn’t what happened. Nothing. Nothing had happened. I had never been the kind of girl who wanted to be chased, but some sort of attempt at contact would have made me feel better. It made me wonder if Brody had just gone back into his suite and moved on.
But then I’d seen a picture of him walking into practice the other day. His eyes had been dark and sunken, his head hung down in defeat. Against my better judgment, I called the press photo up on my computer. He looked like he’d singlehandedly just lost the Super Bowl. It was all I could do to stop myself from calling him every time I saw it. And apparently I was into self-inflicted pain—because I had made a point of looking at the photo an awful lot over the last few days.
A piece of me felt guilty for running away from him after he had just laid to rest a woman he cared for deeply. It had been two years since my dad died, and the agony of the loss was still fresh some days. But then I remembered that Brody wasn’t alone. He had Willow to console him. I needed to force myself to remember that every time I got the urge to call him. And what if I called, and she answered the phone?
“You ready, Thelma?” Indie popped her head into my office.
“You bet, Louise.”
The drive to Maryland was five hours, although it actually went by quicker than I had expected. Indie was one hell of a road-trip companion. Not only did she stock us up on road-trip essentials—Pringles, trail mix, and Cheez-Its—but she somehow managed to keep my mind off of all things Brody Easton, for at least a few hours of the drive.
Our hotel was near the stadium. The corporate travel office had booked a block of rooms, knowing the city was going to be a madhouse during the days leading up to the first playoff games. I wanted to switch to anywhere the Steel weren’t staying, but the city was booked solid. As we neared the stadium, Indie broached the subject.