Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“I rented all that,” he says, sliding on his sunglasses. “After you agreed to move to New York.”
I look up at him. “My room wasn’t always a guest room?”
“Nope. Office.”
“Where’s all the office stuff?”
“I sold it. I wasn’t attached to it, figured I’d find something I liked better after you leave in November.”
I nod but don’t say anything as we head back to the car.
“Is something wrong?”
“No. Why?”
“You’re quiet. Which feels akin to the calm before a storm.”
Okay, fine. Something’s a little wrong. I’m just more aware than ever how much he must be anxious for us to wrap this up so he can get his life back. His office. His quiet life. His fiancée.
“I’m fine,” I say tiredly. “I guess I just didn’t realize you had to rearrange your life so much when I came barging in.”
“You didn’t barge in. And despite my behavior that first day, I’m well aware that your life is the one that was upended. The least I can do is rent a damn bed for you.”
“Yeah. Thanks,” I say, as I sit behind the wheel, and we both close our respective car doors. “And I’m glad you found a desk you like.”
“Yeah, thanks,” he repeats.
Neither of us says much on the way back to the city.
Chapter 27
Thursday, October 8
As has become my cooking ritual, Madonna is blaring, and as such, I don’t realize Colin’s come home until he’s standing in the kitchen, wearing his usual why is this happening to me? expression.
“Oh! Hi!” I wave at him with the spatula, turning down the music on my phone with my free hand. “You’re home early.”
I try to keep my happiness out of my voice, but I’m pretty sure I fail. I’m already alarmed as it is with how much I enjoy being in the same home as this man, and how lost I feel when he leaves to go spend time with Rebecca. The last thing I need is for him to start realizing how I feel.
Colin lifts his eyebrows. “I’d say it’s clear you weren’t expecting me back so soon, but the kitchen usually looks like this even when you know I’m home,” he says, pulling a beer out of the fridge.
He pops the cap with a bottle opener then, setting the bottle on the counter, and holds up both the opener and cap for me to see. “In case you want to take notes. This, in the garbage.” He throws the cap in the trash. “This, back in the drawer.” He puts the opener away.
“Are you sure that’s where that goes?” I ask. “Because I can think of another place to put it. Here’s a hint: the sun nevvvvver shines there.”
Colin, as usual, is unimpressed with my wit. “I don’t understand how someone cooking for one can make this much of a mess.”
“But I always clean it up!”
“You do. But if you cleaned it up as you went along, it’d be easier.”
“I trust the process,” I say, using tongs to move the pasta from the boiling water into the pan where I’ve put together a lemony cream sauce. Three noodles slop onto the stove, and I wrinkle my nose, knowing it’ll only fuel his argument of me being a messy cook.
“I see no process here,” he says.
“That’s because you lack imagination. Get me a plate, would you?” I lick sauce off my thumb.
“A bowl might be better.”
“Oh my God, Walsh. Fine. Whatever makes you shut up.”
He goes to the cabinet and comes back with a bowl. No, two bowls.
I look up in surprise. “I thought you ate with Rebecca.”
“I did.”
“And this is what, second dinner?”
“I ate light. I wasn’t hungry before. Now I am.”
Understandable. I wouldn’t be hungry sitting across from that viper either.
And don’t go accusing me of being bitchy, because let me tell you, I have tried to give that woman a chance over the past couple of weeks since we’ve been back from our Hudson weekend. I’ve even worn my frumpiest outfits to reassure her I’m not a threat. I’ve dropped everything to get out of the apartment so they can have couple time the handful of occasions she’s come over.
I even asked if she wanted to grab a coffee or a glass of wine sometime, hoping that maybe if we got to know each other, she’d see that I’m not out to be a home-wrecker.
She told me, and I quote, “I don’t think that will be necessary.”
I do not like her. Any more than she likes me, apparently. But I pretend to for Colin’s sake, so I keep my mouth shut.
I’ve made plenty of pasta, so I dish up generous portions for each of us and carry them to the table, along with napkins and silverware.
“Anything to drink?” Colin asks.
“Yeah, sure.” I turn around, intending to go to the fridge. “Whoa,” I say, almost running into him because he’s right there.