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)
I’m too excited to care about what I look like. He’s seen me every which way, including last night when I was more than a little tipsy. I can’t look any worse this morning.
I head for the kitchen first, to get myself a cup of water, and as I’m taking my first sip, I hear the elevator ding with an arrival. Walt must have left the apartment this morning. Probably to go on a run or something, or ideally, he could have left to go get us donuts.
I’m smiling at the preposterous thought as I round the corner quickly, only to find—to my shock—Camila standing in the entry gallery, a box of pastries in her hand.
She spots me and there’s a fleeting look of annoyance before she retrains her features into a soft smile.
“Good morning, Elizabeth.”
Oh dear, this is awkward. I’m still in my pajamas, probably with a drool spot on my chin and a nice crop of bedhead. Meanwhile, she’s already dressed for the day in a cream form-fitting dress beneath a coordinating jacket that’s tied with a sash around her thin waist. Her knee-high brown leather boots are polished and add a few more inches to her already intimidating height.
Her hair is smooth and slightly curled.
Her makeup is light and flawless.
I am in awe. Truly.
So much so that I’ve forgotten I’m supposed to greet her back. I force out a meek “Hello” just before I hear Walt walk into the entryway behind me. I turn to see he’s wearing a pair of black sweatpants and a gray t-shirt. His brown hair is slightly mussed and there’s a light dusting of stubble across his sharp jaw. He is, in short, drool-worthy.
He looks between Camila and me, and then I glance between him and Camila. It seems we’re all confused.
Camila frowns.
“Did the two of you just wake up?” she asks. “You’re usually an early riser, Walt.”
“I’ve been in my office working since 6:00,” he says, setting her straight. “You should have called first. I could have come to your apartment or met you for breakfast if you wanted to talk.”
She smiles sheepishly and holds up the box of pastries as if it’s a peace offering. “I appreciate that, but I figured I owed you both an apology after how I behaved last night. It wasn’t my proudest moment to say the least.”
Is she kidding?
“You handled it better than I would have,” I say before I can think better of it. I try on a small friendly smile, just to let her know I’m being earnest.
God, if Walt was my boyfriend and the situation were reversed….my stomach clenches with jealousy just considering it. And worse, that jealousy doesn’t let up as Walt walks past me to go to her and take the box out of her hand.
I can’t see his face, but I watch her cast her eyes up at him like he’s the second coming of Christ, and suddenly, I’m the third wheel here, an awkward understudy who should be exiting stage left.
“Here, let me take those so you two can talk,” I say to Walt, walking forward to grab the pastries from him before scurrying out of the room.
I take them into the kitchen and peer inside the box even though I don’t really have an appetite. She’s brought us delicate almond croissants, chouquettes, and pain au chocolat. She must have gone to a fancy French patisserie on her way over here. No Dunkin’ Donuts for this gal.
I close the box and take a seat on a stool by the kitchen island, twisting my ring on my left hand while I wait to see how long Walt plans to talk to Camila. I’ve worn the ring ever since Walt and I had a conversation about it. I’m starting to become habituated to its weight and size, like it’s an extension of my body.
Walt and Camila’s voices don’t carry into the kitchen, so I have no way of knowing what they’re discussing. I drum my fingers on the counter, crack the pastry box, pinch off a bite of a croissant, and make myself a cup of coffee. By then, my patience is all used up. I slink off my barstool and tiptoe toward the doorway. I’m not going to eavesdrop, per se. And if I am, it’s only for a moment! Only so I can get a sense of how their conversation is going!
I press my back to the wall then try to conjure up some previously untapped font of spy skills as I peer around the doorframe. I see them hugging in the entryway, Camila’s face buried in his chest. Walt’s arm is wrapped lovingly around her shoulders, and now it feels as if there’s a painful lump in my throat as I turn away quickly and scurry to my room.