Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 109086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
My aunts had decided to tag in with me.
That meant my mom handed me off to them.
A day later, my phone buzzed again. More texts.
Aunt Bess: We get you don’t want to talk about this right now, but Clara is on a trip. She’s going to stink bomb Beck’s car and she’s rallying some of the neighbors to start keeping an eye on him. A heads up. You know how she is. We may need limits because shit can go sideways real quick with her.
Aunt Clara: I joined the walking club that goes past Manda’s house. Tomorrow I’ll make friends with the neighbors across the road from her place.
Aunt Clara: Don’t listen to anything Bess is saying. She needs to keep her nose out of my business. I’ve got it handled. We’ll set up a way to communicate later on. I’ll send the code system tomorrow. Stand by.
What? Code system?
I considered asking. Should I ask them what my mom started to spill? They would tell me. My dad was around, but it was the four of us against the world. It felt that way sometimes. Bess and Clara never hid the truth from me. If I asked, they answered.
I held the phone in my hand, and wavered.
My hand started shaking.
No. That was me. I was shaking.
I put the phone aside.
I wasn’t ready to know. Not yet.
It could break me further, and Beck didn’t get that option anymore.
I’d ask later.
It was time to hit up a Broadway show.
Chapter Three
Sawyer
Two days later, I was stalking my cousin. That wasn’t creepy at all.
I was standing across the street from Exhibit, a very sophisticated-looking building. Lots of glass windows everywhere. The bottom floor was all windows. There was a giant statue in the front lobby. There was a clear view of the receptionist, a beautiful blond woman who hadn’t been impressed with me when I went inside for a quick check to see if it was actually where my cousin worked.
His name was on the wall, Graham Matsen, along with his picture. Asian. He was a few years older than me. Trim. He looked like he worked out.
Pride swelled up in me. It wasn’t warranted because I had no hand in any of his endeavors, but he was family.
He was an architect in this place. He lived in New York City. He was successful. That was obvious to see. Of course, I knew some of this from following him on Instagram. Him and his husband, Oliver. They were adorable. Maybe I shouldn’t judge from what was posted on social media, but there were a few videos posted. He and Oliver loved each other.
So yeah. He was successful. He had a loving partner.
I was proud.
I started blinking away some tears, because good for him.
At least one person in our family seemed happy.
That was good. Good for him.
I bet he never gave up a job he enjoyed to support Oliver. I bet Oliver supported him in going for this dream job of an architect.
I kept blinking.
“Miss,” the receptionist had called out, standing behind her desk. Her hand went to the phone. “You’ll need to leave unless you have an appointment. We don’t offer public restrooms to tourists.” Her tone was so chilly.
Right. Yes. That made sense. I should tell her who I was, except when I opened my mouth to do that . . . I couldn’t. Nothing was coming out of me.
What was I doing? I was two seconds from losing it, just at seeing my cousin’s picture on the wall in this place. I couldn’t meet him like this. I’d completely lose it and he’d think I was mentally unstable and well, my mission would go down the drain.
I needed to regroup.
Yes. I nodded to myself, feeling more calm at this change.
Regroup. Come back again when I was not about to lose it because of what a failure I was in life, the total opposite of Graham.
“Ma’am, if you don’t have an appointment, you need to leave. If you don’t go, I’ll call security.”
I tried to speak, but a ball of emotions was still there, choking me. “I—” My voice came out hoarse.
She picked up the phone and clipped into it, “I need security down in the—”
No! No. I couldn’t have security escort me out. That was a whole new type of low. I wasn’t quite there yet.
I didn’t think . . .
I’d leave, do my regroup thing, and well, maybe not approach Graham at his job.
I swept out of the lobby and headed down the street.
I didn’t totally leave.
I left the building, but I wanted a glimpse of the life my cousin had because he’d made something of himself. Whereas I . . . I’d completely and totally fucked up my life.
My hands began shaking. I could not slide back there, to what brought me here, what really brought me here, so I crossed the street at the nearest crosswalk, and got a sandwich from a nearby food truck. After that, I camped out across the road.