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)
“Only if you’re sure,” she says, and when I nod my head, she puts her shoes, jacket, and purse in a pile next to the door. “This was a stupid surprise,” she says, almost sounding defeated.
“It was a perfect way to come home,” I tell her and grab the boxes and open them. “You got me chicken wings. And today is my cheat meal day,” I lie to her. As soon as the season starts, I go on a lean diet, and chicken wings is not on that list. I’ll just do extra time on the treadmill tomorrow.
“I got you what you ordered that day,” she tells me. “I feel like a dork.”
“Don’t.” I shake my head and look around. “I don’t have any chairs.”
“We can have a picnic,” she says, picking up the food and looking at me. “Grab the rest.” She motions to the two pizza boxes and then sits on the floor under the skylight. I follow her lead and sit in the middle of the room. She grabs a slice of pizza and eats it. “What time is your stuff going to be here on Monday?”
“Probably after I leave,” I tell her. “We got the travel schedule for the year today, and we leave on Monday at noon.”
“Shit,” she says between bites. “If you want, I can come over and open the door for them.”
“Would you really?” I ask her. “I don’t want to impose on you.” I take a bite of pizza and look around. No frilly blankets, no table, paper plates on the floor in the middle of my condo, and I’m okay. Content. Happy even. “But if you would”—I smirk—“I would owe you one.”
She groans and throws her head back. “Why does that phrase always sounds so greasy?” Her eyes roll, making me laugh. “I’m paying off my I-owe-you to George tomorrow afternoon.”
“Afternoon?” I ask her. “Isn’t that strange?” I look down at the chicken wings, making sure I don’t look at her just in case she can see how much this news bothers me. You can’t have her, I remind myself.
“No.” She shakes her head. “I have my kickboxing class at eleven, and then we are meeting at twelve thirty.” She looks down and then looks back up, and she has a twinkle in her eye.
“What am I missing?” I ask her.
“Well, I definitely won’t be showering after my workout.” She raises her eyebrows.
“You could just tell him you aren’t interested in him,” I tell her.
She shakes her head while she chews. “Been there, done that. It was more of a challenge for him.”
“I can see that,” I admit. “Work hard kind of thing.”
She tosses her pizza crust down. “I have no idea, but I owe him one, and I pay my debts.” She gets up now, and I watch her every single move. “With that said, I’m going to take off.” I’m about to get up, but she shakes her head.
“Don’t get up. I know the way out.” She walks over to her pile of stuff and slips her feet into the strappy heels, and just like that, her outfit goes from comfy to hot. I shake my head. I can’t think of her like that. I won’t think of her like that. I have bigger things to tackle before I can even go there with her and admit I want her. The last thing you do while in recovery is get involved with anyone.
“Text me all the information, and don’t worry about a thing. I’ll be here.” She smiles, and I just nod at her. She opens the door and walks out of the apartment, leaving me by myself. I get up and clean up the mess and do a walk-through, seeing that it’s much bigger without anything in here. I think back to all the furniture I put in storage and hope it matches.
I put the pizza and leftovers in the empty fridge and store the fruit. The only thing I’m not bringing from LA is a bed, but that will be delivered tomorrow morning. I turn off whatever lights are on and take the key out of my pocket to lock the door and then I finally see the key chain. It’s gold and a circle; it looks like a coin. On one side is a picture of the sun and then the earth with engraving on the bottom.
One day at a time.
I smile, flipping it over, and my heart stops, or pulses, or skips—fuck if I know—but I stop for a second and read the words.
Grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And the wisdom to know the difference.
Viktor 2019
I rub my fingers over the words and take out my chip from my pocket. It’s going too good; shit is too calm. I pull out my phone and make a phone call.