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)
Eli: Sorry for what? I’m the idiot who got himself into this mess.
I’m not sure what to say to that.
Me: It’s not your fault your ex-girlfriend withheld information from you. She’s had plenty of time to confirm her suspicions, and she didn’t.
Dang. That sounded so legit, official, and mature.
Eli: The lawyer in me agrees with you one hundred percent.
Me: But the other part…?
Eli: The human part of me should have known it could have ended like this. Should have asked better questions and paid more attention.
Me: Yet another part that makes you a mere mortal. You’re not perfect, Eli, and no one expects you to be.
Eli: Can I ask you something, and I want you to feel free to shoot me down.
Me: Okay.
Eli: Can I see you?
Can I see you? I stare at that message—so short but so impactful.
He wants to see me.
I have a dozen questions I immediately want to ask. A dozen things I want to tell him.
Me: Yes.
Eli: Really? You’d see me?
Me: Oh god, when you say it like that, you make me feel like I’ve been an asshole.
Me: Have I been an asshole??
Eli: Not even a little. But I do love it when you’re sassy.
Me: I wasn’t ignoring you. I was just…processing.
Eli: I understand. I’ve been processing too.
Me: When did you want to get together?
Eli: What are you doing later today? I have a meeting, but it shouldn’t last long, then I’m free.
Me: I could do later today.
And go stir-crazy waiting several hours to discover what it is he wants to discuss with me. If we’re never going to see one another again or if I’ll be sending him a baby gift in a few weeks.
I hate not knowing.
It drives me bonkers.
But I also have no intention of having an important, life-changing conversation over the phone, either—texting or otherwise.
Yes, a one-on-one meeting is what he and I need to move on.
Eli: Should we do dinner?
Me: Sure. We can do dinner.
Eli: Great. I’ll text you when I’m done with my meeting. It should be around five or so.
Me: Talk to you then.
Eli: Talk to you later, Molly.
I stare at my name in our conversation for longer than I should, wondering if I’ll ever get past the way he says it and uses it in sentences. Like a caress or a punctuation. However he uses it, I love it.
Eli is true to his word, circling back around near the tail end of the day, giving me a time and a location to meet him.
It’s a fancy place in the city, at a restaurant high in the sky, eighty stories up.
I dress carefully. Standing in my closet far too long, I pull out skirts and elegant blouses, debating about what to put on for the occasion.
The Reconning.
Feels like I’ll be walking into my own funeral. Dread fueling my decisions, I choose a black dress and black heels.
I keep my hair down and put in large, gold hoop earrings. A ring on my right hand, a bracelet on my left, and my makeup is simple and natural on the off chance I end up crying into my wineglass.
Eli and I are friends.
Friends.
That is how this relationship began, so I should be glad we’re in this healthy spot. But for some reason… I’m not glad for it. I’m not filled with happiness nor am I happy for him and the possibility that Laura may be having their child.
I resent Laura.
Resent everything she means, everything she’s done.
Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I try to recognize the woman looking back at me with the sad eyes and downturned mouth. Glossy lips that refuse to tip into a smile.
The eyes that are bright but sad.
Why waste a good outfit when I’m walking into my own memorial service?
The drive takes forever, and traffic is a nightmare—as usual.
“This is why I hate going into the city,” I grumble, riding the ass of the car in front of me as vehicles weave in and out without using their turn signals.
It’s just your nerves, Molly.
Relax.
That would be easier to do if I wasn’t trapped in this car alone with my own thoughts.
twenty-six
eli
I feel as if I’m going to throw up.
I haven’t felt this nervous since I quit my job at a law office to start my own business and sign my first actual client. I hadn’t wanted to let him down. I hadn’t wanted to get him a shitty deal, but I hadn’t actually known what I was doing at the time.
The memory assails me because I don’t know what I’m doing this time, either.
I’m ready for a relationship. A healthy, fun, adult relationship and it had slipped right through my fingers, through no fault of my own.
Fucking Laura.
Fucking Laura and her manipulative tactics.
I’m waiting by the bank of elevators when Molly arrives, dressed how I feel—all in black from head to toe. Sparkly gold earrings. Plain makeup. Somber expression.