Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
This was before even checking for concealed problems. I needed professional eyes on the plumbing and the electrics. I wanted to check the insulation in the roof too, the state of the crawlspace under the house, because I wasn’t moving in to Mold Haven.
“All right, let’s keep our fingers crossed,” I said.
What felt like an eternity was more like three weeks, but the house was finally mine, and I’d get the keys in another two weeks.
Since Nate and I were still technically married, I’d had to involve him early on, and he hadn’t reacted at all in the way I’d wanted. He was happy for me. No jealousy, no discomfort, no lingering looks of wistfulness.
Fucking asshole.
Even so, I had the decency of wanting to tell him in private when all was settled, so I drove over to his office in DC one cold Wednesday when I could be enjoying a lunch burger with James. Instead, I was bracing myself for anything. When the topic was the kids, it could go either way.
Nate worked in an old building where a whole bunch of shrinks and small business owners rented office space. I walked past a dentist in the lobby, then took the elevator up to the third and top floor. Life coach, psychologist, couples counseling, children’s psychologist, psychiatrist… There.
Nathan Riley
Trauma care
Do not knock on the door.
All the others had fancy abbreviations on their door signs, but not him. He’d spent years and years in school, even when working. He had a bachelor’s, a master’s, and a PsyD. Actually, the life coach down the hall didn’t have any fancy titles either, ’cause it was an Instagram profession. The dude had attended YouTube University.
I knocked on the door.
But I knew he didn’t have a session, so…
He opened the door a few seconds later, and he was holding his lunch box. “Oh. It’s you.”
Gee, thanks.
I frowned.
“Not like that,” he chuckled and opened the door wider. “I was just getting ready to tear someone a new one for knocking. It happens too often.”
Ah. Okay, then.
I entered his office. It’d been a while since I’d visited, though not a lot had changed. Given the sensitive nature of his work, his office was dedicated to comfort. Warm colors, a plush couch, a seating area with four cushy chairs and a low table, and his corner desk. His ma had helped him decorate the place.
“I was in the area,” I lied. “Just wanted to drop by and say the deal is done. I got the house.”
He smiled, and it looked genuine. “That’s great. Congratulations, Ash.”
Well, fuck you too.
“Thanks. So, uh, we should probably discuss our next step,” I said.
“Yeah, sure. I have an hour before my next patient.”
I nodded and took a seat in one of the chairs.
“Have you eaten lunch?” he asked.
I shook my head.
He set his container down on the table, then walked over to the fridge he had under his desk. He had a microwave there too, that I couldn’t remember seeing last time.
Soon enough, he had two pizza slices heating up for me.
“I have something I’d like to tell you as well,” he said, sitting down. “I’ve, um… I’ve met someone.”
My stare flashed to his, and I clenched my jaw to suppress the wildfire of jealousy and anger that erupted within me. Both emotions left a trail of lava that burned through me in the most painful way.
“I know,” I managed to bite out. Somewhat casually.
He knitted his brows and tilted his head. “How can you know? We’ve been on two dates.”
Now he was lying to me?
“I reactivate my account at Mclean from time to time,” I said. More and more lately, though, since I’d heard of the fire. No one had been harmed, but major renovations were underway. “You were listed as someone’s rigger, so I checked him out. He wrote in his profile that youse were datin’.”
He looked one part surprised and one part confused—until the latter settled. “I… Christ. I didn’t know you looked there. That whole…” He struggled with his words and seemed a little frustrated. “That was an awkward misunderstanding. We entered a nonsexual dynamic in August, and I thought I’d been clear about not being ready for anything beyond that. He… The message was evidently not received—but we discussed it once I saw his profile, and we can sort of laugh at it now.”
I wasn’t laughing.
“So it’s someone new now?” I questioned.
“No, it’s still him,” he admitted. “We won’t be exclusive or anything, but I’ve…I’ve grown to care for him. I think.”
You think?
“Why won’t it be exclusive?”
He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “For starters, he’s poly. He’s also on the ace spectrum, so he—”
“What the fuck is an ace spectrum?” I’d never heard of that before.
Nate gave me a familiar look, the one telling me I was so behind on stuff sometimes. “It means he’s asexual. In Eli’s case—”