Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 116231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
“Nope, they are all like that,” I declare, and she stops asking me questions as we finish eating, knowing this conversation won’t get us anywhere. Getting ready for the actual meeting, I walk over to the bathroom, washing my hands and grab my notes to meet her on the couch. “Okay.” I curl both feet under me. “Let’s get this meeting started.”
“Okay.” She walks out of her office with the same folder she had before.
“Do you want to go first?” I ask her as she sits in one of the chairs facing the couch. She opens her folder.
“Sure,” she starts, “I have a lead on three homeless shelters.” She looks at her notes. “Each of them in not-so-great neighborhoods. They are trying their best, but their resources are slim to nothing.” I shake my head. “I’m going to go and meet with them early next week, if you want to tag along.”
“I can come with you. I’ll make a list of things they need and add it to the list I’ve already started compiling.”
“Good, I don’t want to make any decisions on my own. It’s better if the both of us see what each shelter needs, and then if there is something I didn’t see but you saw, so we can compare notes.”
“Sounds good,” I say.
“I’ve also been thinking of the next fundraiser.” I groan when she says this, and she laughs.
“I know we have barely finished with the first one.”
“Barely finished?” I say sarcastically and hold up my own folder. “It’s still ongoing.”
She laughs. “Okay, okay, fine, but if we are going to rent a venue, we have to start looking now.”
I look up at the ceiling. “Then you should take Kirby and decide that, let me know, and I’ll schedule it in my book.”
“Fine, I’ll drag him along to look for places.” She smiles. “But then you can’t complain when you don’t like it.”
“Deal.” I reach forward to grab my bottle of water and take a sip. “Now, my turn.”
I open the folder and see the sheets of paper from the auction. “All the winners have been notified.” I hand them to her for her to flip through. “The only one who hasn’t gotten back to me yet is Knox.”
She grabs the papers and then flips from one to the other. “He bid on every single item,” she looks up at me and I shrug, “but only won four.”
“Yeah, maybe he was feeling charitable.” I try not to change the tone in my voice. “What’s his story anyway?”
“What do you mean?” she asks me, looking up from the papers.
“I mean, you said he was getting divorced. Did you know his wife?” I ask her, against my better judgment. It’s been four days since he’s been over to my house. Four days since I’ve seen him. Four days since I sent the last text. Sure, he’s been away for a hockey game, but he’s had access to a phone, and he hasn’t texted me. I don’t even know why I’m so bothered by this, but after four days, I am. The first day I was like, good. Then I got home and when I slipped into bed, I smelled him on my sheets. So I made a mental note to change them the next day, which I didn’t do because I said I was too tired, but maybe there’s something I’m not ready to admit. Either way, it’s been four fucking days.
“I met her briefly,” she shares, “before he caught her in their bed fucking his brother-in-law.” The gasp that escapes me is so loud I’m sure everyone in California heard me.
I slap the side of the couch. “Stop it; you’re lying.”
“I am not.” She shakes her head. “He went home early one day, walked in, found them in his bed. Guy was bone in.” My mouth hangs open while I shake my head side to side. “He turned and walked right back out. Never went back to the house. Checked into a hotel. Called a lawyer. Filed for divorce.”
“Since they’ve broken up, I’ve gotten to know him more because he’s with Jaxon and Kirby all the time. Why do you ask?”
“No reason.” I look back down at the folder in my hand but it’s empty, so I have to look back up at her.
“There is a reason.” She leans forward, putting the sheets on the table in front of her.
“I may have—” I start to say. “Perhaps—” I hold up one hand, moving it side to side. “Slept with him a couple of weeks ago.” If I thought my gasp was loud before, Lexi has me beat.
“Shut up!” she shrieks so loud she has to put her hand in front of her mouth.
“And then again another time,” I roll my finger, “and then one more time after that.”
“Three times?” She holds up her hand with three fingers pointed up.