Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
“This money you have, I’m assuming it’s from your mother?” He shakes his head. “You need to save that and get a job.”
I feel like I’ve been slapped in the face by his comment, so much so that I sit with my mouth open and my throat cinched up, unable to respond.
“I’m going to go take a shower. Cool off,” he mutters, looking down at his soda before walking off.
Sulking, I burrow myself into the couch and sigh. I feel bad he was demoted, but I’m sure we’ll be fine. His questions about how much I make though, doesn’t sit well with me. It’s something Cam used to always bring up and then follow it up with an insinuation that I don’t contribute enough. I mean, sure it would be nice if I could make way more on my pottery, but it takes time to get to that level. Defeat settles in my chest as I stare at the dust motes that float in the sun beaming through the blinds from window. This hobby of mine seems to really bother the men I’m with; they act as if the money I make from my art doesn’t matter and is somehow lesser than what they do. Why does it matter though? I have money who cares where it came from? Money is money! I don’t think I would have won today’s argument if I tried, it all results back to one thing. Me getting a real job with steady income.
18
Feeling hot and sweaty, I flip my pillow, searching for coolness, but as soon as I lie my head back down, it warms. Huffing, I kick the blankets off of me and reach for Heston, wanting to feel his body, to know he’s still in bed with me. Especially after our fight yesterday.
My hand swipes cool, empty sheets. Raising my head, I look to see that Heston is gone. My brow furrows, and I look around the bedroom.
“Heston?” I call out. When no one replies, I get up, grab my robe from the back of the door, and pad down the hall. The living room and kitchen are dark and quiet, but there’s a slight hint of coffee in the air. Where is he? It’s not like him to leave the lights off. I go into the kitchen to find the coffee pot mostly full and a note left in front of it.
See you at dinner. - Heston
I scoff, turning the note over for more of an explanation. We usually wake up together. The fact that he didn’t get me up and left a half-assed note upsets me.
Grabbing my phone, I text him.
Me: Why didn’t you wake me?
Heston: I don’t know.
Biting my bottom lip, angry with the impersonable message, I look at the clock on the stove. Ten. Man, I really slept in. I just don’t get why he left without waking me up, and his explanation doesn’t give me any answers. Fuming, I make myself a cup of coffee, slamming cabinets and growing more pissed by the second. I need a neighbor therapy session. Exiting the front door, I walk across the street and head to Owen and Flynn’s. I go around to the back door, finding them sitting at their patio table with fresh fruit and juice. Slumping into a seat, I grab a strawberry and bite into it.
“You okay?” Flynn asks, scratching his chest.
“I don’t know,” I mumble.
“Spill it,” Owen demands, rubbing his eyes.
“It’s just…Heston didn’t wake me up this morning, and when I asked him why he didn’t, he said he didn’t know. Like, what does he mean, he doesn’t know?” I vomit my feelings all over their breakfast, watching Flynn’s brows rise and Owen eat up everything I’m giving him.
“So, you’re mad he didn’t wake you up? Don’t you have an alarm on your phone for that?” Flynn asks, totally not getting it.
“No, it’s not that. It’s the fact that we wake up together every morning; we talk, have sex, and share some laughs. We get up and make coffee and start our day together. We’ve done it for weeks now. He even said it was his favorite part of the day, and then for some reason, I wake up today and he’s gone. Then I ask him what happened and he just doesn’t know. How is that his answer? What the hell?” My voice rises as I continue to explain, my heart hammering against my chest.
“The honeymoon phase faded fast, baby girl,” Owen says, reaching for some fruit.
“Honeymoon?” I ask, unsure what he’s talking about.
“Yeah, you’re starting to settle down and become a couple,” Flynn answers for him.
“That was just an asshole move honestly.” Owen raises a brow.
“Yeah, I know. Maybe it’s from our fight yesterday,” I mutter, thinking about how upset he was over our finances.