Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
I make a mental note to call my mother tomorrow to thank her.
I’m ready to dive into the food when the roar of familiar tail pipes gets my attention. Which sparks suspicion. The next second I’m barreling through the front door.
“Noah! Stop!” I shout, bounding off the front porch barefoot. He pulls to a stop in the middle of the street.
“Did you…can you take the helmet off please?”
He turns off the bike and takes his helmet off, running a hand through his hair. His expression guarded.
“Yeah, so––”
“Your robe.” He tips his chin, mouth drawn tight from resisting an actual smile.
I look down and realize it’s a bit loose in front––and I’m naked underneath. I scramble to shut it tightly, double knot the belt. “Yeah, so, did you leave a bag of food…per chance?”
He nods once. He looks sheepish for a moment. “I figured you can’t cook with one hand…” His voice drifts off, carried away on a gust of wind. It whips my hair into my face, across my mouth. I tuck it behind my ear.
“Thank you, for––”
My pocket vibrates. It’s the ring tone I assigned Oliver. I fetch the phone out of the robe pocket and glance at it. Noah’s amusement is gone by the time I look up from the screen. “I have to get this.” He nods and slams his helmet back on.
“Thanks again,” I add, but my words are drowned out by the sound of the engine starting. A moment later the bike is pulling away, leaving me standing in the middle of the street watching him go. More of the past playing out in the present.
“Hi,” Oliver says as soon as I press the accept button. My heart melts a little. He really can be sweet when he tries.
I’m excited to talk to him. It’s time to lay my cards out on the table, to tell him about Noah and delve beneath the surface of our relationship––something we’ve never done before.
“I’m sorry for everything,” I say, jumping right in. I make my way back into the house, the wind flapping my robe around. “I know I haven’t been myself lately and I’ll explain in a minute––”
“I meant to ask you earlier if you’ve been keeping up with your training schedule?”
Training schedule? That grates, but I brush it off and continue. The days of letting him manage me are over. This is the reboot our relationship needs. “I’m going to spend some time getting to know my grandfather’s business.”
Silence. It starts to drag. “Did you hear me?”
“Why would you want to do that?” I don’t like the tone he’s using but I am committed to my plan. I expected some resistance.
“It’s part of the stipulation to the will. Learn the business, spread the ashes. Remember I told you about it last night?”
“I must have fallen asleep.”
“You know how I said Rowdy has a business partner?”
“In a minute, have you started with your core and lower body strengthening exercises yet?”
“Oliver––” I’m already frustrated times ten and we’ve barely begun.
“What?”
“That’s not what I want to discuss.”
“Darling, I couldn’t give a single shit about your grandfather’s business partner. I do, however, care about your training.”
“No, I haven’t started it and you’re missing the point entirely,” I grind out, losing hope with each word we exchange. I’m getting nowhere with him.
“I don’t know what the hell is going on with you, but enough is enough. I want you home.”
“And I need you to stop managing me. We need to talk. And I mean really talk––about our relationship. Not about my career.”
“Do I need to sort this out? I can catch a flight tomorrow.”
“No. Like you said, you’ll be in the way.”
“Where is this coming from?” His voice is low, brittle with resentment.
He doesn’t want to hear the truth. He doesn’t want to hear that I’m burnt out on tennis. Or that there’s something missing between us, something that needs to be addressed. He’s not interested in fixing this relationship because he doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with it.
“I’m staying. Don’t expect me any time soon.”
Chapter Eleven
Maren
“This place is worse than quicksand. Half my graduating class is here. Does anybody ever get out?” I say as I walk up to my sister. By the time Bebe and I made it to the fair, around late afternoon, the parking lot was already at full capacity. I had to drop her off in front and park the truck three blocks away.
Her blonde ponytailed head, which was bent over her phone, snaps up. Wide blue eyes meet mine and she quickly closes her screen. I jot down a mental note to investigate later.
“You did,” Bebe points out. Not entirely true, and yet I don’t correct her. I was forced out. Had Noah not made it impossible for me to stay, I would have.
As apprehensive as I am about seeing him––especially after our strange exchange yesterday––I know I need to make an appearance at the Rowdy’s stand. I don’t want him to think that I’m not taking this seriously because I am. This is his livelihood, his business, and I would never disrespect it.