Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
“Why would I do that?”
“Silly me,” he says through deep laughter. The last of the light from the day disappears, but the fluorescents from the lobby shine in Gil’s tired eyes. “I can tell you one thing, Junibug.”
“What’s that?”
“He’s crazy about you.”
I want to argue, to deny that such a man might think more of me than he’s let on, but I can’t. Andrew doesn’t let his guard down often, but there have been two or three times when I’ve seen raw emotion written on his face. Maybe that’s how I know there’s more to him than he lets on as well. I don’t just see it in his eyes. I hear it in his laughter. I watch how he moves with such ease around me. Seeing him at work gives me a comparison.
But the topic causes my hands to shake as a reminder of past pain takes over, and I shuffle backward toward the elevator. “You read the situation all wrong, Gil. You heard the man. We’re just friends.”
“My only advice is to be honest with him. A relationship built on lies doesn’t stand a chance.” He holds up my favorite pink box, bribing me closer. As soon as I take a donut and a bite, he looks right at me, all joking aside. “You’re better than you believe yourself to be, and you deserve more than you allow yourself to receive. Remember that, kiddo.”
I’ve sort of lost my appetite. Not because I’m upset, but because the truth can sometimes do that to you—sneak up when you least expect it. “Thank you,” I say, conflicted about what to feel. Should I feel shame for accepting less in my life to keep me safe or sad that the walls I built to protect my heart are so high that no one is tall enough to see the real me?
“You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
“The truth will come out. It always does. You have a small window of opportunity to present it in the best light. It’s up to you, though, if you take it.”
“I know you’re right. I’m just a little lost on what to do. I need some time to think this through.”
“Life is happening whether you’re ready or not. You’re great at living each day as it comes, but what if . . .” He raises his hands in surrender. “Hear me out.”
He’s misreading my fear for impatience, so I take a quick breath and try not to let everything I’m thinking play out on my face. Softly, I reply, “I’m listening.”
“You started making plans.”
“There’s a saying.”
“No. I don’t want to hear about life moving on while you’re making plans or whatever it is. It’s bull-cocky, Juni. Make the plans. Give yourself something to look forward to as well as living in the moment. Life is made up of many moments, but it’s the memories that matter. I know you love Rascal, but you’re not going to remember the time you took him to the grass patch on the roof. You might remember the time you took him to Brooklyn to get his portrait painted, though.”
“I’ve never seen my boy look more handsome. Mr. Clark has that painting hanging near the front window. He only puts his most prized possessions by that window.” I grab the watering can I had set down in the corner and head for the snake plants on the far side of the room.
“Don’t push this conversation away, Juni. You’re about to be twenty-six—”
I start watering, content in my focus being on the first plant. “Don’t rush it, man. I have two months.”
“Two months. Maybe that needs to be your deadline.”
Turning back, I raise an eyebrow. “For?”
“I don’t know. What I do know is that you have enough money to hide from life for as long as you want. But what kind of life would that be?”
“I’m happy, Gil.”
“And that makes me happy.” Tilting back in the chair, his body language backs his beliefs. “Maybe I’m talking nonsense, but for all the joy you’ve created in your bubble, I just wonder what would happen if it were popped.” Sitting forward again, he rests his arms on the lower desktop. Unable to settle, I relate. This conversation makes me just as uncomfortable. “I have a bucket list. Some things are big, like visiting Naples, where my family comes from, and others are small, like eating a hot dog down at Coney Island once a year.”
“You can do that anytime, though.”
“But sometimes, we need the reminder.” Reminiscing cracks his normal steady and fatherly tone. “I don’t get out there much, but when I do, I enjoy eating a dog in the salty air.” How can I not smile? He’s right. It’s simple, but sometimes, we need to leave the safety of our little habitats. “Reminds me of my childhood and then later taking Bellabug.” Why does it always make me chuckle when I see this wonderful man misty-eyed when thinking about Isabella?