Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 86596 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86596 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
I’m losing my touch.
Softening.
I used to consider myself hardened. Hardened by business and the people in it; the negotiating, the lack of trust, the backstabbing by other agents trying to secure my clients as theirs.
It’s a lot.
It’s exhausting.
It’s nice to be myself with a woman.
Was I myself when I was with Laura?
Or was I always on edge, even when I thought things were good between us?
Did we even get along?
I remember lots of bickering. Her trying to always have control. The arguments, the withholding of affection.
The shopping, the spending, the cosmetic procedures.
“Lost you again,” Molly intones, half looking at the television, half looking at me.
“Sorry. I was in the past.”
She nods. “That happens sometimes.”
No judgment. No irritation.
“I’m just tired.”
Molly yawns as if on cue. “Yeah, me too.”
Our heads tip back, necks resting on the cushions, but neither of us moves.
Neither of us has anything to say.
When I wake up, it’s in the middle of the night, and we’re still on the couch, the television having gone off as if by magic. Or a timer.
The lamp is still on, but it’s obviously in the middle of the night—or morning. I check my watch and confirm that it’s three o’clock.
Holy shit, I can’t believe we both passed out on the sofa. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve fallen asleep on something other than a bed?
Years.
College maybe?
At first glance, Molly appears fast asleep.
Then she stirs, turning her head toward me, an angelic face while she slumbers unlike the multitude of expressions she has when she’s awake.
I study her.
Smooth skin with a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose I’ve only just noticed.
Pert nose.
Perfectly shaped eyebrows.
Sandy-blond hair.
She looks so peaceful and sweet…
Molly stirs again, this time shifting toward me, eyes struggling to open.
She blinks.
Blinks again.
“What time is it?” Her voice is groggy and sleepy.
“Three.”
“O’clock? In the morning?”
I smile. “Yeah.”
We sit there for a little bit, kind of staring at each other, both of us tired and half asleep—well, mostly asleep.
“I should get going,” I finally whisper in the dark.
“It’s three o’clock in the morning,” she says.
“I know, but…we need sleep.”
Molly works herself off the couch into a stand, tossing the blanket to the side.
“That’s ridiculous. Let’s just go to bed.”
In a sleepwalking daze, she walks away. Climbing the stairs to the second story. I wonder if there’s a guest bedroom I should sleep in, or if there’s not, if I should sleep on the couch.
She glances behind her. “Aren’t you coming?”
Should I? I mean, we’re both adults, and we’re not romantically involved. And in no way, shape, or form have we indicated that we want to hook up with each other. It’s just sleep. Right?
Get your mind out of the gutter, Eli.
We’re both half asleep.
Eventually, I follow her as she continues upstairs to her bedroom. Without going to the bathroom or flipping on a light, Molly pulls back the covers and slides into bed with a loud yawn.
The bed looks so comfortable and inviting; feminine and fluffy and the opposite of what my bed looks like. It’s cold and gray, unlike this stark, cloud-like white fluff.
Like a zombie, I walk to the other side, only hesitating a few moments before sliding in myself, body sighing at the coziness. Crisp and cool and comfy.
“Oh my god, I’m sooo comfy,” Molly mutters next to me, her hand falling to the middle of the mattress, fingers brushing my arm.
“You read my mind. Is this bed always so comfortable, or am I just super exhausted?”
“Both,” she whispers. “Definitely both.”
I inhale the scent of fresh air and lavender and wonder if these were line dried recently on a clothesline, mind wandering to a million different places, brain fried.
Body at ease.
Mind at work despite the early hours of the morning, knowing I have to wake up soon.
Molly breathes beside me, fingers still touching the crux of my arm, every so often they move back and forth as if caressing me.
I shiver.
Rolling to the side to stare at the wall, I make a mental list of tasks that must get done tomorrow—anything to take my mind off her sweet-smelling perfume and the way she reaches for me when I shift back to my back.
She’s asleep, so she obviously has no idea she’s doing it, but there’s no denying how nice it feels sleeping beside her.
You’re lonely. That’s all it is.
Molly is just your friend.
Your bud.
Someone you basically hired to do you a favor…
Would a woman like her be interested in a guy like me? A guy who works too much, only has a few close friends, and who’s a bit damaged from his last real relationship?
I watch her a bit longer before my lids get heavy, and finally, I fall fast asleep.
thirteen
molly
“So what you’re saying is, nothing happened.”
“No, nothing happened.”
Posey isn’t convinced. “Nothing at all?”
“No.”
“No kissing, no touching, no hand holding, no heavy petting or otherwise?”