Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 112884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
She does a deep sigh. “Don’t fucking do that.”
“Do what?” I ask her.
“Start with how you know the top neurosurgeon in the world,” she hisses out, “instead of, I had my physical and I’m fine. But how do you know him?”
“Duly noted for next time to not start at the beginning.” I laugh.
“Thank you.” She takes the bottom of the muffin off and starts eating it. “Now, why do you want to know about Dr. Yoder?”
“Just wondering,” I reply and she gets up, walking over to her door and shutting it.
“Cut the bullshit with me. You have been here a little bit too often, even for you.”
“Kylie, there is no bullshit,” I try to tell her. “I just I know his wife.”
“Obviously, doesn’t her brother play hockey?”
“Yeah and practically everyone else in her family too,” I confirm. “What do you know about her husband?”
“I know he’s an asshole and you don’t want to piss him off.” She leans back in her chair. “I also know he’s not exactly a model husband.”
“What does that mean?” Even though I know exactly what it means.
“It means that he fucks pretty much anything that walks.” She shrugs. “At least that’s the gossip around the water cooler. No one has actually confirmed they fucked him, but you can see his wandering eye.” Even knowing it was coming, I wasn’t ready for her to actually say it.
“He’s such a fucking piece of shit,” I growl, shaking my head. “Has he ever tried to come on to you?”
“We don’t run in the same circles.” She laughs.
“Stay away from him,” I warn, getting up from my chair, “and keep out of his sight.” She looks up at me. “He’s not a fan of me.” She gawks. “We’ve shared a few words.”
“Kirby,” she says my name, “I have to work here.”
“Not if you take me up on my job offer,” I remind her. “Then you won’t have to worry and you can just be free.” I go to open the door. “Think about it.”
“Well, by the sound of it, I probably won’t have a job once you’re gone. It’s a good thing we don’t share the same last name.”
“Told you not to change it,” I tease.
“He adopted me when I was eight,” she snaps at me. “It’s not like I had a choice in the matter.”
“Then you’ll be safe and no one will know we’re related.” I smile at her.
“Well, I am prettier than you.” She laughs, making me laugh. “And you”—her face grimaces—“from what Angela told me, you are ugly both inside and outside.” She mentions my ex-girlfriend, who I dumped when I figured out she was a bully to Ariella.
“Yes, because you really need to listen to what she says.” I look over at her. “She also said you were a spoiled brat and I shouldn’t be paying for your car.”
“That bitch,” she retorts. “I never liked her anyway.” Now I laugh out loud. “What time are you picking me up on Saturday?”
“It starts at seven, so probably seven thirty,” I reply and she nods.
“Make an entrance, I like it. Also, I’m getting glam done. Thank you for that.”
“Anything for you…always,” I say, walking out. She blows me a kiss. I head to the children’s wing, and instead of listening to the kids, the only thing I can think of is Lexi and how pale her face got. Hoping maybe, just maybe, she breaks free one day.
nine
Lexi
I look at the clock and see it’s just past five o’clock. Picking up my phone I call Trent, who went golfing this morning and has yet to be back. I sit on the bed, listening to the phone ring once and then he picks it up. “Hello.”
“Hey, it’s five o’clock and the car is going to be here at five thirty,” I remind him. “Are you on your way back?”
“The car can wait,” he says, his voice low. “I’m at the club, I’m going to leave in a bit.”
“I have to be there by six. I told you that this morning.”
He sighs. “Relax, Lexi, it’s not like you’re saving lives.” He takes a deep inhale. “I’ll be ready when I’m ready.”
“Trent,” I reply, my voice tight, “I’ve worked hard for the last six months for this one day and I’ve done it for you and your status at the hospital. What do you think they will say if I show up late? It’ll be a bad reflection on you.”
“I’m on my way,” he retorts, disconnecting the phone. I walk back into my bathroom and sit down on the chair to get the rest of my makeup applied.
“Sorry about that, husbands and golf games.” I make an excuse as she asks me to look up.
It’s five minutes later when I hear the slam of the front door. Then the sound of his sneakers squeaking on the floor before he’s in my bathroom. “Oh,” he remarks, surprised, “the glam squad.” He smiles and I look at him in the mirror with a smile on my face. “Not that she needs it,” he praises, coming to me. “Oh, that’s a bit too dark on the eyes, don’t you think?” He looks at the makeup girl. “Can we lighten the eyes a bit? Her eyes are so beautiful without makeup, I feel like you can’t even see them.” He looks at me. “Don’t you think?”