Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 89840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“Morning,” I call back, though what I really want to do is walk away and avoid a conversation. That would be rude on my part, though, and I’m not rude.
“Going for a run?” Burnell asks.
“I am. You don’t need to tag along. I’ll likely run to the coffee shop afterward.”
“Okay. Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Just keep an eye on the house if you will.” I give her my warmest smile.
Her head bobs, proud to make it her duty. “Absolutely.”
I place my headphones on and turn the opposite direction, jogging out of the neighborhood. I move along the pavement as cars pass by and the sun beams down on me while Jazmine Sullivan sings about busting her man’s car windows. I think about yesterday, my time in the car with that croissant. All those calories. All that guilt.
I jog faster, taking a trail that leads to The Bean Bar. It’s my favorite coffee shop and they also serve amazing smoothies. They also have a famous in-house brownie that’s topped with powdered sugar. Ugh. Why the hell am I thinking about brownies? Wasn’t the croissant enough?
I lower the headphones, so they hang around the back of my neck and catch my breath outside The Bean Bar. Once inside, I order myself a blueberry and banana smoothie and pay with Apple Pay. As I wait in the pick-up area, I scan the shop and pause on a familiar face at a table near the windows.
It’s that woman from the rally who gave us the tea. Eden, I believe. She’s sitting on a laptop, scrolling through it while heavily focused on the screen. Her hair is in two giant dark puffs atop her head, and she wears a black kimono over a dark-green cotton jumper. She also wears boots that have some dried mud around the bottom. Though I’m in no mood to talk, and more so curious what the hell was in that bottom drawer of Dominic’s office, I do believe I should thank the woman for her tea.
“Blueberry banana smoothie,” the barista calls, placing my drink order on the counter. I collect it, along with a straw, and weave through the tables. Eden’s eyes flicker upward, and she does a double take when she notices me. I start to wave but she rapidly shuts the laptop.
“Hi—I’m so sorry to interrupt you. Eden, right?”
“Yes. That’s me,” she answers. There is nothing welcoming about her tone. I’ve clearly interrupted something and have now become a nuisance. Knowing it makes me feel icky. I was always a nuisance to my mom—the child often in her way.
I work to swallow. “I was just popping over to say hello. And to thank you again for the tea you offered us at the rally. Dominic seems to really enjoy it.”
Eden softens then, the sharpness melting from her shoulders. “Does he?”
“Yes. I haven’t had the chance to try it yet, but I will soon.”
Eden studies me so long I shift on my feet. In a way, it’s like she’s reading me, trying to figure out if I’m lying. I’m relieved when she gestures to the chair on the opposite side of her table. “Please, First Lady. Have a seat.”
I can’t help smiling as I take the seat. I’m still finding it hard to get used to the title of First Lady, even after four years. The sunlight pours through the open windows, bathing my already sticky-hot skin in its warmth. I unwrap my straw and stick it into the lid of my smoothie, taking a long sip to cool down.
“I’m so sorry if I interrupted you,” I say again as Eden looks me deep in the eyes.
“It’s no big deal. As a matter of fact, you spared me from reading a scathing review about my tea,” she replies, and her frown returns. “Someone claimed one of my bestsellers, Honey Chai, tasted like plastic.” Ah. So that’s why she’s upset. I’m pleased to know it has nothing to do with me.
“Don’t you hate that?” I ask, sympathizing. “People can be so rude.”
“Yeah. It’s awful.” She picks up her coffee cup, taking a long sip from it. “It’s really nice to see someone so official in a simple place like this. Do you live around here?”
I nod, though I shouldn’t really answer that. Especially after the attempted break-in last night. “A few miles away, yes.”
“Nice.” She looks me all over. “Were you working out before coming here? You’re a little sweaty.”
“Yep. Took a jog. Had a few calories I needed to burn.” I force a laugh and shift in my seat as remnants of the croissant sing in my gut.
“Hmm. I can’t tell. You look great.”
I can’t help smiling at that. If only she knew the exterior doesn’t match the interior. I still feel like that chubby girl, the one no guy ever wanted. The one whose best friend was donuts and cakes and chocolate chip cookies. Instead of letting her know all that, I say, “Thank you. I work hard to maintain myself.”