Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“No,” I said, voice soft since she was still sniffling and trying to pull herself together.
“You can’t just… buy me a phone, though,” she insisted, looking up. And I found myself too fucking charmed by the fact that her nose got red when she cried. Even just a little bit.
“I can. I did. We don’t need to make a big deal out of it. I also got this,” I said, holding out a much smaller box. “It’s not the prettiest case,” I admitted, though I had gone for the brightest color option they had—a pale yellow that kind of reminded me of her. “But it will withstand just about anything. No more cracked screens. It’s unlocked, so you can just switch all your shit over when you have some time. Then you can show me the pictures you took and the design ideas,” I offered.
Granted, I didn’t know shit about that kind of thing, but I liked her dedication to the project. And I’d seen Gia bring Lorenzo’s place together over time, so I thought I had a bit of an idea about what looked good in these types of houses.
I was curious to see if I agreed with Avery’s choices. And as we scrolled through her new phone that she’d set up at lightning speed while we waited for the lasagne to cool enough to eat, I couldn’t help but start to feel Avery’s enthusiasm for the project of ‘making a home’ seeping into me as well.
A little spark.
A little warmth.
Long-buried, but familiar, welcome, missed.
“Okay, well, hm,” she said, bringing over the dinner plates to the TV dinner stands she’d picked up. Nice ones. Fancier than I’d ever seen. Not looking quite so hideous as the usual ones. And roomier. “It’s a little… soupy,” she said, wincing, as she put my plate down.
“Smells good, though,” I said, shrugging it off. It wasn’t like I was expecting her to be a trained chef. Food was food.
“Kind of does,” she agreed with a satisfied little smile to herself. Like she was proud of herself. Which made me hope it was even halfway edible so I could tell her it was good. “If it isn’t a winner, though, I have a whole pile of recipes to try out. Well, not a pile. You don’t have a printer,” she said. “Do you… want a printer? Are printers outdated? What are the feelings on printers?” she asked, making a chuckle escape me again.
“I think they still have their uses,” I said. “You can snag a printer too, whenever you have the time.”
“Oh, good. My hand was hurting at just the thought of having to copy down all those recipes by hand,” she admitted with a smile as I finally raised a forkful of food to my lips.
“Oh, fuck,” I said, eyes widening.
“Crap. It’s bad, isn’t it? You can spit it out. I won’t be offended. I mean, my ego is getting hella bruised lately, but it’s okay. I don’t blame you. Don’t get food poisoning on my account.”
“No, babe,” I said, trying to talk through a mouthful, then giving up and chewing, watching her anxious face. I wondered if she even noticed that she’d raised her hand to chew at her already decimated fingernails.
Reaching across the table, I grabbed her hand, pressing it back down on the table.
“No, that was a good fuck. This is fucking amazing,” I said. “What’s… what is so different about it?” I asked, unable to put my finger on it.
“Sausage. There is sausage and ground beef.”
“That’s it,” I said, taking another forkful, just barely holding back a groan as I did so. “If you ever try to repeat this, I will deny it, but this is better than my mom’s,” I told her.
“Really?” she asked, and it was like the fucking sun rose up inside of her, bursting all out.
“Really,” I said, feeling those beams radiating off of her, sinking in, warming me.
I didn’t notice it right away, but it had changed something, unearthed something.
Without even thinking about it, the next morning, I’d put on one of my old belt buckles.
And the world didn’t feel quite so fucking dark anymore.
CHAPTER SIX
Avery
My phone started buzzing and letting out a shrill song from the bathroom counter, making me jolt hard.
I hadn’t programmed the ringer since getting the new phone, so I wasn’t used to it yet. Emilio, when he wanted to get in contact, just sent a text.
I rarely ever got a phone call.
And when I did, well, they always had my stomach clenching.
I was actually praying it was a bill collector as I reached for it, but no luck.
Taking a deep breath, I lifted the phone to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Having fun playing house?” Renzo’s voice met my ear, making my eyes close as I dropped my ass down on the side of the tub.