Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
“That must have been a very scary time,” she says softly and I don’t know how to answer her. “This is you,” she says, stopping, and I look up at the building that is now my temporary home. “I’ll text you the address for tomorrow,” she says, continuing to walk, then turning. “Thanks for making sure I was okay.” I don’t say anything to her as she turns around and walks, her hips swinging just a touch. She is the first one that I actually admitted all that to and she didn’t say anything, didn’t judge me, didn’t ask me, didn’t blame me. I don’t know how I feel about any of this and I stand here for longer than I should and finally walk up the steps to the iron door.
Chapter Six
Zoe
I toss and turn most of the night, and when I finally wake up, I feel slightly hungover even though I had nothing to drink last night. I drag my ass to get coffee and decide to hit a boxing class to get some energy in me. I’m locking my door when the phone rings, and I have to dig deep in my purse to find it. “Hello,” I say finally on the sixth ring.
“Zoe.” I hear my name in his light Russian accent. “It’s Viktor.”
“Hi,” I say, walking down the steps and making my way over to the gym four blocks away.
“Sorry, I didn’t know if it was a good time to call,” he says, and he sounds weird like rushed and disconnected.
“I’m just walking to the gym,” I tell him, “so it’s a good time.”
“I was wondering if we could go to that open house?” he asks me. “We got sidetracked last night when we talked.”
“We really did.” I laugh. “I guess other issues were more important like my dad and why I don’t date hockey players.”
“Don’t forget to add in my rehab. That is always a great topic to derail any conversation,” he says, and I hear him drink something.
“I guess we had lots of things to discuss that were more important than you finding a house,” I joke with him, looking at my watch. “My boxing class ends at eleven thirty, but I can meet you at the apartment at twelve thirty.”
“That sounds good.” His voice is so husky. “Send me the address.”
“I will, and I’ll see you there,” I tell him and disconnect. Opening my messages, I forward him the address.
The workout was just what I needed to rejuvenate. When I take out my phone to check my messages I see a couple of emails need my attention and also my father just called me. Without fail every single Saturday, he calls wondering if I will be coming home for Sunday family lunch.
I start walking toward the open house, and when I finally turn the corner, I spot him right away. I take the time to look at him while his eyes are on his phone. He’s casual in a blue sweater, sports shorts, and black and white Nikes on his feet. His dark brown hair curls out of the back of his Stingers baseball cap, he has scruff on his face, and I can’t see the blue of his eyes yet. But I can see his crooked nose, something that you can only see if you look at his face. It’s something I noticed while we were walking. I also noticed his plump lips that look perfect, too perfect. He’s actually very much a pretty boy except his attitude is all hockey. I don’t know if I can describe it really; it’s just the cockiness, the attitude.
He must sense someone is looking at him because he turns his head in my direction. I don’t know what I’m expecting to see, but what I’m not expecting are the circles under his eyes or the way he just looks exhausted. The blue of his eyes is so dark they look black. I smile and raise my hand to say hi, and he just nods and then turns back to his phone. “This is going to be fun,” I say to myself.
When I’m finally close enough, I speak up. “Hi, have you been here long?”
“No,” he says gruffly, keeping his eyes on his phone.
“Okay, we should get started,” I tell him, waiting for him to finish whatever he’s doing on the phone. He finally closes it, but he doesn’t put it away; he holds it in his hand, tapping his index finger on it.
“Lead the way.” I just nod at him. He’s still paying me to do this job.
“I was doing a little research last night,” I tell him when we walk up the stairs to the front door. “It’s actually three floors, and it’s at the top of the building. There are ten floors, and five are used for office spaces,” I say, opening the door and walking over to the elevator. “There is a night security guard, but during the day, it’s an easy access in.”