Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 63862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
“Yeah, you know, like… moving boxes. I need moving boxes.”
The way the area around his eyes went slack was the only indication he felt anything at all about the request.
“Of course,” he agreed, opening the back door for me.
Maybe he’d report back to Harrison.
I didn’t care.
Harrison would find out soon enough either way when he came home to an empty apartment.
“Dammit,” I grumbled, dropping an armful of boxes as I tried to get my ringing phone out of my pocket.
“Do you ever answer texts anymore?” Willa greeted me when I finally swiped to answer.
“Sorry. I’ve been running around,” I admitted, gathering up the boxes and sticking my face in front of the security monitor.
“How goes Operation: Annoy My Husband Into A Divorce?”
“Failing, mostly. He’s too patient.”
“The asshole,” Willa said with a small laugh.
“So, yeah, I’m packing up and heading out.”
“To where?”
“I haven’t thought about it yet. But somewhere.”
“Well, you know my spare room is open.”
“I do,” I agreed.
Suddenly, that didn’t feel right anymore.
It made no sense. I’d always loved crashing and then moving on. Something had changed, though.
Maybe it was as simple as living in a space for longer than a few days with literally everything I owned.
“I don’t know, though. Maybe it’s time to get an apartment of my own,” I said after dropping half the boxes in my room and then going back to grab a coffee.
“Really?” Willa asked.
“Yeah. It’s… it’s been kind of nice being in one place, I guess.”
“Did you consider that maybe it’s the company that’s been nice?”
“Willa.” My voice held warning.
“I’m not trying to play matchmaker. Lord knows I’m the worst person in the world to give any kind of relationship advice.”
“Hey, don’t do that.” Her situation was complicated. But not because of anything she’d done wrong. Just an asshole guy doing asshole guy things.
“Actually, that was kind of why I was calling.”
“Is everything okay? The baby?”
“I’m fine! I went to the doctor, though. So I sent you a picture of the sonogram. Don’t get too excited. It really doesn’t look like anything yet. The tech kept trying to point things out to me, but I could never see what she was talking about.”
“Well, to be fair, I lied to Billie and all the others anytime they asked if I saw the leg or head or… whatever it was.”
“It wasn’t just me!” she said, laughing. “Okay. That makes me feel better. But, yeah, I sent it over this morning.”
“I will look at it and pretend to see things as soon as we hang up. How are you doing with… everything?”
“I’m good. Mostly. Oh, I should probably warn you, though. If you do decide to come stay here, you might need to prepare yourself for construction noises.”
“Again?”
“I know,” she said, sighing. “It’s insane how much work I’ve had to have done on a house this expensive. I almost considered moving, but it just feels like too much stress with… everything else going on.”
“And at this point, how much more could possibly need to be fixed?”
“Right?”
“Well, I consider myself warned. And I will text or call you once I decide what I’m doing. So far, my plan just involves getting my stuff packed up.”
“Okay. I hope we see you soon, no matter what you decide is next.”
“I love you too,” I said, knowing that was what she was really saying.
“Okay. Good. Now, go get to work.”
I hung up, toggling over to the text, then opening the sonogram image that, yep, showed me exactly nothing but a vague whiteness on a black background.
I downloaded it.
Then went to check my files to make sure it saved, so I could have something made with it for her when it was time to start thinking about showers and whatnot.
“What the hell…” I said, seeing dozens of videos and pictures that I didn’t remember taking.
As a whole, I wasn’t someone who took a lot of pictures. I really preferred to be in the moment. Nothing felt more dystopian to me than being at a concert or something and watching thousands of people watching the thing through the phone screens they were holding up in the air. Taking a quick picture or clip was one thing; living your life through your phone was another.
So, really, I rarely ever looked back through my files since I didn’t expect there to be much to look at.
But clearly, there had been one night when I’d changed my mind about that.
I had a sinking feeling I knew exactly what night that was.
I scrolled down to where they all started. It was a picture of a blackjack table. I guess I wanted to commit the memory of winning that one time.
Weird. But okay.
From there, it was various pictures of random venues around Vegas.
Two different casinos.
A store.
A coffee place.
In all of them?
Me.
And Harrison.
Both looking extremely happy. It was bursting out of our pores.