Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Jesus Christ. I didn’t respond.
“…and if you haven’t fallen asleep yet,” Jake went on, “the last items on the list are fire-starter, fifty yards of rope, toilet paper, and a compass.”
I took my cue from my cheat sheet of comments. “Note that we haven’t listed bowls, forks, spoons, or cups. We’ll head up there with knives to make those ourselves. So that should be awesome.”
“Next year from Roe Finlay and Jake Denver, our very own set of dinnerware sold at Target,” Jake joked.
I laughed.
After we wrapped our episode, I could tell Jake was losing his energy quickly.
It wasn’t just his vicious cold, though.
We were flying to Norfolk in four days.
“C’mere.” I nodded for the door. “I’m walking you home.”
He frowned and got up from his chair. “We have work.”
Work could wait.
“You need to rest,” I told him. “Come on, lemme dote on you, will you?”
His mouth twitched, and it wasn’t like I had to twist his arm. He wasn’t feeling well at all.
Outside the studio, work was busy. Haley wanted to talk, but she took one look at her brother and understood when I said I’d be back after I’d put the photographer to bed. Seth passed us in the hallway, his assistant hot on his tail, and he said, “We really need more space, guys!” over his shoulder.
“We gave you the green light to look at listings!” I hollered back.
“Then what’s the budget?” he asked. “You okay with the numbers I got from the bank?”
Jeesh. Uh. It was a shit-ton of money. We weren’t discussing a tiny studio space anymore. We needed at least four offices, one room for editing, a common area, and a recording studio.
“Let me get back to you,” I decided. Jake was on his way out the door, and I couldn’t think numbers right now. “We’ll do lunch, okay?”
He nodded and headed into the office.
I caught up with Jake outside the house, where our front gate was gone.
Another thing costing money. We had to install a better security system and a gate that locked properly. More than that, we had to embed a fence into the hedge.
Jake sniffled and coughed. “I don’t think you need to worry, darlin’. This show is gonna make the suits happy.”
I didn’t doubt that. In our fun quest to challenge ourselves, we were selling out just a little bit for the money. The sponsorship deals were fucking bananas. We had the coffee table book coming out too. Plus, we’d just sold Currahee to another seven European markets, and our podcast revenue kept growing as our docuseries appeared in more and more countries.
“I’m not worried about today. I’m thinking about tomorrow.” We had to keep shit afloat too. “Condor Chicks isn’t really a couple chicks anymore.”
He sent me a sideways smile and grabbed my hand.
That felt good. Holding his hand, just walking down the street to our home, probably wasn’t a big deal to most people, but it was to me.
Anyway. I was supposed to comfort Jake, not the other way around.
I waited till we were home, where I steered him toward the kitchen. I was gonna heat up some soup for him.
“Sit down.” I kissed his cheek before I got started. “So it’s been a lot lately—for you, I mean.”
“Huh?”
I gestured—kinda vaguely—at everything around us. “You know. My divorce, us moving in together, merging our army of kids, finally being official…being out. The public wondering… Norfolk.”
He nodded slowly as I poured Panera leftovers into a bowl.
“Are you waitin’ for me to freak out?” he wondered. “Roe, I’ve had five years to process my feelings for you. Finding acceptance and all that.”
I glanced at him. There was more to be said. I knew Jake better than anyone.
He was happy. He was at peace with himself. I felt that in how he behaved on a day-to-day basis. I felt it in how he acted around me, how he treated me, and how he always wanted us to be close. But that didn’t mean everything had been processed.
Demons liked to pay a visit every now and then.
I set the bowl of soup in the microwave and waited him out.
I could make him more of that tea too. Whether he liked it was irrelevant. Grandma Jo-Jo insisted.
“Okay, I’m worried my folks are gonna rip the progress I’ve made away from me,” he finally admitted. “I have no idea how this confrontation is gonna go, and I’ve been weak in the past. I’m so goddamn happy—like, in here.” He gestured to his chest. “I can’t explain it. It’s a new feeling to me. And yeah, it scares the shit outta me because I’ve never had more to lose.”
Screw the tea. I rounded the kitchen island and joined him at his side.
“That’s been my fear about coming out in the public too,” he said. “Not to the same degree, though. I feel more confident now that our family and friends know.”