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)
The eggs are pretty good, and my next bite is more enthusiastic.
Out of the corner of my eye, I note that Colin eats methodically. Not inhaling his food, but not savoring it either. He’s got a pile of something green on his plate—spinach, maybe, and I’m grateful he spared me that, since I’m new to this breakfast thing. Vegetables are pushing my luck. Normally, I’m more of a coffee kind of gal, and occasionally, a raspberry smoothie that Kurt brings me when he tells me I’m acting hangry.
The exception is Sunday brunch, but brunch isn’t breakfast. There is no spinach at brunch, not the way I do it. It’s all about mimosas and French toast piled high with whipped cream.
“Do you like brunch?” I ask Colin.
“What?” He doesn’t look at me.
“Brunch. You know, a boozy weekend breakfast? Where you eat just a little too much, preferably something with Hollandaise or syrup, and want to take a nap after?”
He wipes his mouth and takes the plate to the sink, rinsing it and putting it in the dishwasher using the same robotic efficiency with which he eats.
“Are you done?” he asks.
I look pointedly down at my plate, which is almost entirely full since I’ve taken all of two bites.
“Right. Well, put it in the dishwasher when you’re done.”
I give him a mocking salute as he pours himself another cup of coffee and heads back toward the bedroom.
“So that’s a no on liking brunch then?” I call after him, mostly to be annoying.
Colin doesn’t reply, and I don’t expect him to.
I sigh. One morning down. Only about ninety more to go.
Kill me.
Chapter 8
Friday, August 28
“Honey, your hair. Do they not have hairdressers in New York?”
“Hey! I’m not going to do Skype calls anymore if you’re going to criticize my appearance.”
Kurt blows me a kiss through his on-screen camera. “I missed your face.”
“I missed yours too.”
And it’s true. I have missed him. But … this whole working remotely thing has been more successful than I expected. Granted, it’s only been a week, but I’ve been a little surprised to realize how much more I get done when I don’t feel obligated to sit in on every possible meeting. Not to mention, the three-hour time difference means that I feel like I get a jump-start on every day.
I make a mental note to use that three-hour advantage to make a hair appointment. I left San Francisco in such a hurry that I missed my standing appointment to keep my mushroom brown roots from showing, and the grow out’s not pretty. But neither is the process of finding a new stylist who knows his or her way around light blond hair, so I’ve been putting it off.
The way Kurt’s eyes keep widening in horror tells me I’ve put it off too long.
“Seriously, I’m going to go put on a hat if you keep doing that.”
“Oh, God, no. That’s worse. Hats and your face shape are no good.”
“Remind me again why we’re doing this?”
He smiles. “Because you love me. And I love you. Speaking of lovvvvvve, how’s the hubby?”
I slouch down at Colin’s kitchen table, which I’ve taken over as my makeshift office until I can get around to renting proper office space, and tell him the same thing I told Meghan. “I don’t think he likes me.”
Kurt shakes his head. “Nonsense. Everyone loves you. You’ve got that joie de vivre that men find positively irresistible and women want for themselves.”
“Yeah, well, Colin doesn’t seem to appreciate my joy for life. I think he thinks I’m annoying.”
“Are you?”
I purse my lips. “I may find it a little intriguing to push his buttons. But in my defense, he has a lot of them. The guy’s so tightly wound.”
Kurt fans himself. “Oh, God. My Kryptonite. The first night I stayed over at Lewis’s house, I put my fork in the dishwasher tine-side down, and I thought he was going to lose it. It was some of the best sex we’ve ever had.”
“Yeah, well. Colin and I are most definitely not having sex.”
“You’re married!”
“Not really. I barely know the guy.”
“So? Get to know him.”
“I’ve been trying,” I say, fiddling with my necklace. “Not because I want to sleep with him, but because I don’t see any reason why the next three months have to be completely unbearable. But he seems perfectly content to just pretend I don’t exist, even when we share the same fridge, breathe the same air …”
“You could seduce him,” Kurt says, as though I haven’t spoken.
“Okay, one-track mind. You’re not listening. I’m not interested in him like that. He’s grumpy, structured, and he lives on the other side of the country. I just don’t see why we can’t be friends.”
Kurt shakes his head indulgently. “You never could stand it when people don’t like you.”
“Well, why doesn’t he like me?” I demand, sitting up straight. “I’m easy to like. I get along with everyone.”