Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Ugh.
I knew my brain was going to have nothing but Cinderella references after Tate and I agreed yesterday to go see Rodgers + Hammerstein’s Cinderella musical with Nat in November. I would’ve gone with her on my own, but he insisted on coming with, offering to drive so that we could drink as much as we wanted at dinner before the show. Thankfully, they get along really well, with their first meeting having been on the neutral ground – like I wanted.
We went bowling.
They both suck at it, so they quickly had something to bond over.
Daniel turns his head over his shoulder which exposes his identity and causes my boyfriend’s cheerful demeanor to slightly waiver as he steps inside. “I didn’t know you had company.”
Jealousy is painfully prevalent in his green gaze pushing me to do my best to ease it. “He just stopped by to shoot the shit for a bit while stealing my company’s coffee.”
“It’s complimentary,” he playfully jabs my direction.
“Yeah, for patients and clients.”
“I could be a patient.”
“You’re testing my patience,” I teasingly scold while Tate heads my direction.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he bites, Irish accent getting thicker, something that also happens when he’s irked. “I just thought I’d drop you off an early grilled chicken and asparagus dinner before my shift.” The plastic bag in his possession is placed carefully on the edge of my long wooden desk. “And deliver this rose I clipped from your garden.” The beautiful, pruned to perfection red creation is lovingly offered closer to my face as he leans in for kiss. “Algo bello para mi bella.”
My swooning response over him saying “something beautiful for my beautiful” in Spanish is unfortunately interrupted by my ex extending his hand outward for shaking. “I’m Dr. Daniel Wainwright.”
Tate straightens himself up at the same time he shakes. “We’ve met before.”
“Have we?” my ex-husband questions in total sincerity.
“Several times.”
Bafflement deepens on Daniel’s stone-cut complexion. “Really?”
“Tate used to be our regular server at Arthur’s,” I promptly remind.
“Oh,” he casually replies, coffee being brought to his lips, “I didn’t realize they delivered.”
“They don’t,” my other half practically snarls without leaving time for me to speak. “I’m her boyfriend.”
Daniel immediately starts chuckling yet when abruptly ceases when no one joins him. “Oh, you’re serious?”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“You’re the boyfriend she talks about?”
“Ar a laghad tá tú luaite liom,” he murmurs under his breath.
Of course, I’ve fucking mentioned him.
I love him!
“My apologies,” Daniel swiftly claims, surprised expression still on display. “I just never pictured her with someone so…”
Tate and I both hit him with raised eyebrows of disapproval.
“Tall?”
Our scowls remain unchanged.
“Foreign?”
They promptly deepen.
“Young,” Daniel clumsily fumbles out the truth.
“Don’t you have a toe implant to do or something?” I not so slyly shoo him out of the room.
“Not ‘til next Tuesday,” he replies with an amused smirk, “but I get it. I’ll go. Let you two have some QT.” My ex stands and begins to back out of the room, however, stops just short of the exit to state, “Don’t forget to check your schedule and text me about going to Rent next month. I’d much rather go with you than Kiera. I’d rather not have to listen to her ‘this was better on Broadway’ bullshit for three hours.”
I helplessly laugh over his mocking, which causes Tate to loudly huff.
Okay, so I can’t find anyone else funny?
Is that like a girlfriend rule I overlooked?
Erasing my amusement is harder than expected leaving my retort a little muddled, “Yeah, will do.”
Daniel smiles again, winks, and exits, shutting the door quietly behind him.
Before my mouth can even consider moving, Tate rudely bites, “I don’t want him in here anymore.”
Not rolling my eyes takes an act of a higher power. “We’re just friends, babe.”
“I don’t want that, either.”
“Okay,” one leg is crossed over the other, “but it’s still going to happen.”
His green eyes narrow to an unhappy glare at the same time he leans against the edge of my desk. “Why?”
“Because I’m a grown fucking woman who doesn’t need someone else to pick and choose her friends for her.”
Displeasure flares again. “You don’t need to be spending this much fucking time with your ex.”
“And you don’t get to decide that.”
“I should get some sort of fucking vote. I’m your bloody boyfriend.”
“And as my bloody boyfriend – who I am nothing but up front with – you should trust me to cut some shit off or redefine some boundaries if I thought there was an issue.”
“There is an issue!”
“You being butt hurt because I’m still friends with someone who used to see me naked is not a real issue! You don’t see me flipping out every time some THOT you used to bang pops up in your DMs like a cold sore that refuses to stay away, do you?”
And God, do they love to send him tit shots.