Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“This is more of your ‘I hate bad boys’ shtick, isn’t it? I was sixteen. What do you want from me? I said I lost it and paid the fine, so it wasn’t really stealing, thank you very much.”
He shakes his head sadly. “What shocking behavior. I am shocked.”
“Oh, shut up.”
“Now you’re abusing me. A fine hostess you are. Are you even going to offer me a glass of wine?”
“Would you like a glass of wine, Ali?”
“I’d prefer a beer if you have it,” he says, cool as can be. “And I believe I asked you not to call me that.”
“It’s good to want things. I love that for you. Keep it up.”
He grunts.
There just so happens to be a couple of bottles of Blue Moon in the back of the fridge, cunningly hidden behind a bag of out-of-date salad mix. I twist the cap off one and hand it over.
“Thank you.” He heads toward the mess on my dining table. “What’s all this?”
“The makings of my list. Things I want to do before...you know.”
His frown returns with a vengeance. “Have you told anyone else about that? Your friends and family?”
“I decided not to.”
He waits patiently, but I have no more to say on the subject. “As ridiculous as it is, I know it’s still weighing on your mind,” he says finally. “You shouldn’t have to deal with it alone.”
“I’m not. You’re here now. Hooray!”
He narrows his eyes on me. Like he’s not entirely certain I am joking. Messing with this man just might be my new favorite thing.
“So I made a Hollywood star cry,” I say. “That’s something that happened.”
“Please.” He snorts. “Daria’s an actress with a film to promote. Her marketing team must be loving this.”
I am not convinced. Given I just got cheated on, the idea I might have inadvertently hurt someone in a similar manner is not nice. Though nothing happened between him and me.
“Lilah,” he says in a gentler tone. “Daria and I aren’t together. Any moment now, there’ll be exclusive photos of her being comforted by her costar.”
“If you say so.”
He takes a seat at the table, setting his ankle on the opposite knee, making himself comfortable. “You were about to tell me why you haven’t talked to anyone else about this Witchy Wanda situation.”
“Good Witch Willow,” I correct, taking the seat across from him. “The thing is, I’ve decided to embrace toxic positivity. This whole dying-next-week thing doesn’t make me want to vomit at all. Everything is fine.”
His grunt is full of disbelief.
“I mean, think about it, Ali.”
“You really do need to stop calling me that,” he mumbles.
“What would even be the point in freaking out? We all die sometime. It’s an irrefutable fact of life,” I say, doing my best to convince us both. “What does it matter if my time is up sooner rather than later?”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. Good vibes only.”
“Good vibes only,” he repeats in that accent, sounding not the least bit convinced. “Great.”
“I have a plan. I’m going to spend the next week working through items on my wish list. The idea is to enjoy myself so much that the threat of an early demise hanging over me won’t even matter.”
“What’s a wish list?”
“I am so glad you asked. It’s like a bucket list, but better,” I explain. “No negative death connotations. Nothing to do with domestic cleaning supplies either. It’s all happiness and sparkles from start to finish.”
“Right.”
“The thing is, I ran the numbers. You’ll be delighted to hear that I now believe the situation could go either way. I may or may not die next Sunday. But whatever happens, I’ve taken the next week off work, and I’m going to have fun.”
“All right,” he says, as if he’s considering giving me his grudging approval. As if I even need it. This one has some alpha tendencies. “What’s on the list? Skydiving and bungee jumping and so on?”
“No. None of those things. Yikes.” I take a sip of wine. “I do not feel the need to test gravity. There’s a delicate balance between experiences that make you feel alive and ones that actually increase your chances of an early death. I intend to stick with the first.”
“What have you got, then?” Now he’s on his feet again. He takes a cookie off the plate on the kitchen island and takes a bite. After he’s finished his mouthful he says, “These are great.”
“My mom made them. She can bake like nobody’s business.”
Head cocked and beer in hand, he starts reading the papers on the table. Guess I took too long to answer his question. There’s a lot of paperwork to see. Mom printed off numerous articles about best bucket-list ideas and top things to do before turning thirty, along with several versions of my list. Lots of ideas were added before later being discarded.