Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Lillian: Yes. I’m not getting much work done, because I keep thinking about you.
Callan: Me too. BTW, you owe me dinner.
Lillian: I do?
Callan: You said you’ll invite me over for a home-cooked meal once the arrangement ends.
Lillian: Right. When would you like to come over?
Callan: Friday night.
Lillian: It’s a date.
Callan: I’ll check in on you again later. Get to work on your masterpiece.
I stare at the chat, rereading our conversation.
After a couple of minutes, another message comes through.
Callan: Are you painting?
Letting out a burst of laughter, I type a quick reply.
Lillian: Yes, Sir.
I set my phone down on the workbench, and picking up my palette and brush, I get to work.
Only when the room starts to grow dark do I sit back, and with a proud smile, I stare at the completed piece. My eyes dart over every inch of the painting, making sure I didn’t miss a spot.
Happy with the final result, I set the palette down and drop the brush in a jar. Tired, I quickly clean my brushes before calling it a night.
Getting up, I stretch out before picking up my phone and heading out of the room. I walk to the kitchen and pull a plate with leftover lasagne from the fridge.
Popping it into the microwave, I open my cellphone screen so I can send a text to Callan.
Lillian: I’ve just finished the painting. How was your day?
I set the device down and pour myself a glass of orange juice. Before I can take a sip, my phone beeps.
Callan: I’m proud of you.
Callan: My day was busy. I’m still at work and will only head home around midnight.
Callan: What time do you usually go to bed?
When my food is warm, I remove it from the microwave and take a seat by the island. Popping a bite into my mouth, I type out a reply.
Lillian: Around midnight. Why are you working so late?
Callan: Because I have a problem delegating work.
Lillian: Have you eaten today?
Callan: I shared a seafood platter with Harper. Did you eat?
Lillian: I’m having lasagne right now.
Callan: Good. I’ll call you when I get home. Get some rest.
Setting the phone down, I take another bite of my food.
It’s nice to have someone who wants to talk to me.
I swipe over the device’s screen to open it again and go into the chat with my mother. The message I sent her on Saturday shows that it’s been read, but she hasn’t bothered to respond.
“God, why can’t she just reply?”
I pick up the device and press dial on Mom’s number. It takes a few rings before she answers, “We’re busy with dinner. I’ll call you later.”
“I notice you read the message I sent on Saturday. Why haven’t you replied?”
Mom lets out a sigh. “Because it’s absurd and doesn’t warrant a reply. I’ll talk to you when I have time.”
The call ends, leaving me to stare at the screen in disbelief.
Really?
I quickly open the chat with my mother and read the message I sent to her.
I hope you and Dad had a pleasant week. I’d like to come over so we can talk about everything. Let me know when you have some free time. Also, Dad doesn’t have to send me the monthly allowance anymore. Please tell him I appreciate everything he’s done for me, and I’m not doing this out of spite. I want to become independent so you can be proud of me. Love you.
What’s so absurd about asking to talk with them and saying I want to be independent?
Dropping the device on the counter, I shake my head. No longer hungry, I throw the leftovers in the trash and rinse the plate before placing it in the dishwasher.
My mother will probably ignore me for the rest of the week before deciding to talk about everything. She’s done it before. It’s her way of showing she’s unhappy with me.
I head upstairs to take a shower, and not wanting to worry about the impending fight with my parents, I focus on Callan.
He makes me feel like I matter. I know it’s early days, but it’s nice.
I really hope things work out between us.
After going through my routine, I put on a pair of leggings and a T-shirt before returning downstairs. I grab my phone from the island and take a seat on one of the couches.
Switching on the TV, I put on the crime network, hoping it will make me sleepy.
Just after eleven, my phone begins to ring, and seeing Callan’s name flashing on the screen, I quickly turn down the sound and answer the call.
“Hi.”
“Hey, beautiful. Did I wake you?”
“No. I’m watching some TV. Are you done at work?”
“Yes.” He lets out a chuckle, then asks, “Can you come down to the lobby?”
I shoot to my feet and stare at my front door. “You’re here?”
“Yes. I just want to see you before I head home.”