Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
The next morning, I get out of bed even earlier than usual so I can hunt Walt down. It’s early on Saturday and most normal humans are cuddled up in bed, but Walt’s not normal. No, he’s probably planning on heading into work any minute now, and I need to catch him before he does. We have a lot to discuss.
I need to let him know I finished reading through the legal documents last night. They outlined every little detail of our marriage, from how we’ll file taxes to how I’ll receive health insurance under his coverage, but they didn’t give me any insight into what he expects from me as his wife. Clearly this marriage isn’t going to be kept a total secret if the people in the apartment building already know me as Mrs. Jennings. On top of that, we also need to pick up where we left off concerning me leasing my own apartment versus staying here.
I hop into the shower, leaning back underneath the warm stream as I work through conversation openers in my head.
“Walt…Walter…Mr. Jennings…”
Ugh.
On second thought, I’ll just speak from the heart and hope it sounds okay.
After my quick shower, I hustle to get ready for the day with a light layer of makeup and a blowout. After, I head into my closet, glad I took the time to do a load of laundry yesterday. I reach for my favorite cream turtleneck and tuck it into a pair of dark jeans. I slip on my locket and Patek Philippe, and then I reach for the check I wrote out last night before I pad out of my room quietly.
I listen carefully, trying to determine if Walt’s home. I make it all the way to the kitchen without hearing him, and oddly, my heart sinks.
I really wanted him to be here, and I don’t think it’s just because of the conversation we need to have.
After putting the check down on the island, I tug open the fridge and glance at the food inside, slightly uninspired, just before I hear a voice.
“I’m not at my desk right now so I don’t have the device modifications for the clinical trial in front of me.”
I spin around in time to see Walt walk out of the pantry with an armful of ingredients he drops on the island closest to him. He glances up and notices me, and I smile tightly, slightly embarrassed. Not only is he on a business call I’ve likely interrupted, he’s also entirely underdressed in nothing but his pajama pants.
Seeing Walt sans shirt is on par with the time I accidentally stumbled upon one of my mom’s racy romance novels when I was twelve. My cheeks flush bright red like I’ve never seen a naked torso before. It’s absolutely ridiculous. I’ve participated in live drawing classes in which we studied the nude human form, both of men and women, not to mention the fact that I’ve had boyfriends. Several. And I’ve seen them nude too!
So why is Walt’s bare chest so damn shocking?
I can’t say at the moment. I’m too focused on trying to swallow past the lump in my throat.
He moves first, refocusing his attention down on the ingredients he pulled from the pantry: a banana, an avocado, and a jar of peanut butter, as well as bags of flax and chia seeds.
“The FDA held up approval for the cerebrospinal fluid shunts last year because of this same issue. You need to contact Michael.”
I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I watch as he starts to peel the banana and toss it into the Vitamix. Next, he cuts open the avocado, scoops out each half, and throws them both into the blender too. Then, he pauses and rounds the island toward the fridge—toward me—and I don’t think fast enough to move before he’s right in front of me.
I think the person on the other end of the call is rambling on in Walt’s AirPods because he’s not saying a word. He’s staring down at me expectantly.
“Move,” he finally mouths.
I squeak out a meek apology and move aside so he can open the fridge and tug out even more ingredients. Almond milk and spinach get added to the pile beside the Vitamix before Walt shakes his head and starts to argue with the person on the other end of the line.
“That’s why we have device reps in the OR, for this exact reason. No. Hold on—”
Then he disappears down the hall, leaving his food behind.
I hear a door open and I think he’s in his office—the room beside the library that I haven’t dared peek into—so I wait for a few minutes, wanting to see if he’s going to come back out anytime soon. A minute passes, and there’s no sight of him. I decide that while I wait, I might as well scramble some eggs for my own breakfast, and when I’m done eating, I tiptoe down the hall and listen outside his door. He’s still on the phone, and now I feel bad. He’s probably getting hungry.