Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 71768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
My eyes narrowed. “Are you saying you want me to be a grumpy workaholic?”
It was his turn to narrow his eyes as he leaned in. “You kissed her, didn’t you?”
I adjusted my bland black tie and wondered if I could shove his flamingo one into his mouth so he’d stop asking questions.
His smile grew and grew, until I was eyeing the pears and wondering how much force I’d need to knock him out with one. See, math, very handy, very sexy.
At least that was what she said last night.
“You’re doing it again,” he whispered. “And frankly, it’s starting to freak Karen out.”
“We don’t have a Karen working here.” I frowned.
“No, that’s not her actual—” He sighed. “It’s a figure of speech, I was teasing. And a Karen is like someone who gets upset over everything. You know, like they ask for the manager when their coffee gets too…” His voice trailed off.
“Damn it, who let you in here again?” I wondered out loud.
“And that is how friendship works, helping you see yourself more clearly even if it’s so painful you want to strangle me.” He held out his hand. “Friendship high five? No? Yes?”
I glared.
He changed the subject. “So is this why you have little hearts floating around your head singing Ginuwine?”
I frowned. “You and I have very different ideas of romantic songs. Doesn’t he sing that ‘Pony’ song in Magic Mike?”
Banks just grinned. “Can’t get any better than the ‘Pony’ song.”
“I worry for your dating life sometimes.”
“Don’t. I do quite well. Besides, might I remind you that I’m the reason you’re in this position. And you still haven’t confirmed or denied coitus.”
“Out.” I pointed to the door. “You’re giving me a headache.”
Banks reached for another pear.
“Just take the damn basket!” I shoved it at him.
“It’s my favorite fruit.” He winked. “Oh, and Rip, I’m proud of you for letting your heart lead you to where your dick—”
“OUT!”
He just laughed and shut the door, and then he yelled through the crack. “You love me, man, one day you’ll admit it!”
“Go annoy Heather.”
He opened the door slightly and poked his head in. “Good idea, she might have more pears…” He shut the door again.
And for the first time in years, I sat at my desk and I worked with a smile the entire time.
Despite the maniac best friend who was stealing pears and making me admit my feelings or lack thereof over the last few years.
I sent a quick text to Colby.
Me:
Banks is in a mood today.
Colby:
When is he not? Also, can you pick up some milk on the way home?
I don’t know how long I stared at the text, smiling at the screen, touching it, then stupidly going through photos of the last few days with me, Colby, and the kids, and then going further back.
Photos of Monica and Brooks that I’d put in a special folder.
Ones that included Colby always smiling and laughing with Monica.
Ones where a lot of times I was staring at Colby or standing at the side in confusion, almost wondering why they were laughing so hard or loud.
The random picture would pop up where I was cracking a smile, but I always seemed tense, like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
And for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel that way.
I felt free.
I wanted to get the damn milk.
Bring it to Colby and claim a kiss before helping with dinner or putting the kids to bed right after, then catching up on all the moments she’d given me the opportunity to have.
That, like an idiot, I’d fucking missed.
TWENTY-THREE
Colby
“Aunt Colby, you did your hair!” Ben announced after jujitsu when I was running around the kitchen in a vain attempt to cook my very first pot of chili while Viera colored.
I’d wanted to surprise Rip with something that was gluten-free and actually tasted good.
And you’d think I’d wrestled Godzilla given how much I’d ended up sweating trying to get the house and kitchen cleaned up while at the same time making sure Viera didn’t eat the glitter glue she was using in her latest masterpiece or more of the cat’s food. Long story short, she’d been curious about the cat food, put some in her mouth, and then cried because she couldn’t get it out.
She and Stu weren’t exactly on friendly terms.
Stu chose that moment to walk by Viera’s chair and meow.
Viera hissed.
Stu ran.
The world was backward.
Then again, so was our house, so, really, it made sense.
“Viera, don’t hiss at Stu, it makes him sad,” I singsonged as I dropped the last can of chilis into the giant pot and stirred. “Hmm, not bad.”
“That smells yummy!” Viera announced, choosing to ignore the hissing comment.
“Thank you!” I did a little dance in place while I continued stirring. Sure, the house didn’t look sparkling, but the dishes were put away and the living room was in some semblance of order. I was learning that the best time for me to get things done was during and after afternoon nap. Once Viera was awake and had a snack, she liked to watch Bluey, which left me time to put the house back together. Today I’d even given myself some extra time to change before dinner. I’d put on different leggings, washed my face, put on some lip gloss, and combed my hair.