Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Both Kat and Sue are silent, each nodding and probably not convinced with my words. Each for their own reason, and I love them for their concern.
“I have a meeting with my CPA,” I say as I glance down at my phone. I was going to walk there but there’s no way in hell I’m going to make it on time now. “I have to go,” I huff out as I reach down to grab my leather tote off the floor.
“Hey,” Kat says. “You’re happy?” she asks with all seriousness.
I stand up, slinging the purse over my shoulder and pushing back the stool back. “Yeah,” I say and that smile comes back. “I’m happy.”
I expect some kind of guilt or feeling of inevitable doom, but the girls all smile and Maddie squeals with delight. My chest feels empty, as if I’m lying to myself and afraid that someone will expose it. But I am happy. This is what happiness feels like, isn’t it?
“That’s what matters,” Kat says with finality.
“Damn right,” Sue says, adding her two cents as she grabs her purse to join me.
“Want to share a cab?” she asks, the conversation of Mason and whatever the hell I’m doing with him long gone. At least for now.
Julia
This office sucks. Even as a writer, there isn’t a better word to describe it that comes to mind. For starters, it’s always dark. Crossing my ankles and shifting in the chair, I don’t understand why Mr. Allen Walker never opens the curtains. I used to joke with Kat that he’s really a vampire. The plain white shades aren’t thick but they’re very good at blocking out what little sunlight would shine through the windows to my right. The office practically brushes against the neighboring building. Through the small gap where the fabric panels meet, I can see the old brick from Parks Towers next door. I’d rather look at that and have some sunlight than stare at closed curtains.
I scoot back on the chair with my purse in my lap, feeling more and more uncomfortable.
“Miss Summers.” Allen addresses me as he always has since I was a little girl and even after I was married, but it feels different now. He shuts the door behind him, a smile on his face as he shoves his wire-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. Fine lines and wrinkles crease around his eyes as he holds out a hand for me. I stand up, the lightweight chair scooting back on the thin carpet as I shake his hand.
“It’s been too long,” he says warmly. I nod my head and smile politely although I disagree.
The last time I was here was a few days after Jace passed away. That day, Allen made sure to call me by my legal name and not the name I grew up with. The memory makes the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand on edge as I clear my throat and retake my seat. Uncomfortable as it may be, it’s the only one I’ve got.
It seems he’s forgotten that Summers still isn’t my legal name. I look down at my barren hand and think that’s my fault. I took my ring off months ago. That was easy, all things considered, but changing my name is something else entirely. It would be like erasing Jace, and I won’t do that.
“It has,” I say lightheartedly, pulling down my light gray pencil skirt and readjusting in my seat as he takes his on the other side of the desk.
My chair is small and uncomfortable, while his is large and practically molds to his body.
I shake off the anxiety running through me as I straighten my back and ask, “What is it that you needed me to sign?”
A rough laugh fills the room as he shakes his head then says, “Not just yet. I need decisions, Miss Summers.”
My body tenses at hearing my name but I bite my tongue. “Of course. What kind of decisions?”
“As acting advisor to your estate and investments, I need you to look these over,” he says as he pulls out several folders and sets them in front of me. My brow furrows as I open the first and then the second. I don’t know a thing about any of these. I’ve never been involved with investments and stocks.
“I—” I start to say and then let out an uneasy breath as I continue, “Is there a way that I could take your advisement, Mr. Walker?”
He turns his head to the side and raises his brow as if to say I should have done that a long time ago. “I advised your husband when he made these transactions. Unfortunately, the choices now are to stay and keep your money in a losing bet or to withdraw and lose a substantial amount.”