Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
“I said you didn’t need to ask for your job back,” he said, “because Charlotte already negotiated that for you.”
I straightened, and my pulse kicked. “What?”
“She still loves you, even after all you said, but don’t think that means getting her back is going to be easy. You broke my little girl’s heart, and she can be stubborn like me. It means she probably won’t forgive you.”
I struggled to catch my breath, and my mind raced trying to wrap itself around this new information. “I only need a chance. Just give me five minutes with her.”
There was movement, drawing his attention to his office window. Outside, the photographers rushed to throw their gear in their cars and follow the SUV that had just turned onto the street from the back parking lot. As it drove past, I got a flash of the newly engaged couple.
Erika was almost twenty years older than her fiancé, and Ardy had no issue supporting them. Was it wishful thinking maybe someday he could do the same for Charlotte and me?
He glanced at his phone screen, checking the time. “I believe she’s home right now. You want me to text my wife and let her know you’re coming over?”
The way he said it made it sound like a limited time offer, and I couldn’t get up out of my seat fast enough.
THIRTY-THREE
Charlotte
The best mid-morning light in my house was in the kitchen, which worked out perfectly as the background during my Instagram Live. I put my ring light up on a tripod on the breakfast bar, and my microphone on the counter just out of frame.
I didn’t realize until after I’d started the video that the flowers Noah had sent were still on the island behind me. It meant if he watched this video, he’d see I’d gotten them.
Whatever.
At least they looked good in the shot, and what were the chances he’d watch, anyway? The man wasn’t into cleaning.
He wasn’t into me either.
Engagement in the video was slow at first, but that was normal. I had a list of topics ready to talk about while waiting for the questions to start rolling in, plus I tried to return any of the greetings viewers sent me in the comments.
Most of the questions stayed within my brand. They wanted to know my preferred cleaning products on stone countertops, how to remove the sticky, baked-on mess on an air-fryer tray, or general tips on cleaning faster.
I didn’t know the answer to every question, and I wasn’t ready to call myself an expert. I was honest when I wasn’t sure and explained the way I’d tackle the problem if I were facing it.
I wanted to get there someday. To be knowledgeable and always ready with the right answer, and I spent a lot of time doing my research. I was addicted to cleaning subreddits. I watched other influencers videos, not just for their cleaning process, but to see what worked style wise, what I responded to as a viewer.
In all my life, I’d never liked studying, but this was . . . sort of enjoyable. It was a full-time job that, so far, didn’t feel like work.
I jotted down notes whenever a question came up I didn’t know the answer to, mining the ideas for future videos.
Dryer vent cleaning, I scribbled in my notebook. Apartment rental move-out.
I’d only planned to talk for thirty minutes, but the comments were coming at me fast and furious, which was awesome, but I struggled to keep up. For time, I had to bypass the question asking which curling iron I’d used on my hair this morning.
The wannabe lifestyle influencer I’d been died a little at that.
I would have been happy to talk beauty stuff any other day, but I needed to stay on brand and get through all the cleaning questions.
When the front doorbell rang, my face froze with a smile, and I pretended I hadn’t heard anything. My microphone was sensitive, but only at close range, so it probably hadn’t picked it up.
I was sure my mom would deal with it, and I used this as my sign to wrap things up.
“Thank you so much for hanging out with me,” I said brightly while staring at the screen of my phone. “This was a lot of fun, and I hope it—”
Breath halted in my lungs when a figure materialized in the background. The moment I recognized who it was, my heart bounced into overdrive, and I spun to face him. I forgot all about the camera, or the people who were watching, and gaped at him.
Noah took one look at my setup, saw the red record timer ticking away at the top of my phone’s screen, and froze like a deer caught in headlights.
“Noah? What the hell?” I demanded.
A warning blared in my head, reminding me I was still live. I swiveled back around, plastered an enormous fake smile on, and like the doorbell, I pretended everything was fine. Nothing had just happened, and I definitely wasn’t unraveling at the sight of him.