Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 103754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
And though it’s eight blocks from Keats’s apartment, the distance on the map was deceptive. They’re longer blocks than expected. I’m altogether in a different world in this area of the city. Which feels like an adventure, but am I in over my head? Especially if I don’t have a job any longer? “I’m sorry, Marcy, can I get a rain check?”
“Why?”
I run my freezing fingers through my hair and then rub them together for warmth. “I don’t think I’ve thought through everything I need to. I want to get my laptop and figure things out.”
Sympathy runs through her expression, and when she tilts her head to the side, she nods. “I get it. But you’re buying the next round of coffee.”
“If I have money for it, it will be my treat.” I give her a hug and say, “Thanks for helping me check out the apartment.”
“Eh.” She flips her hand. “It was kismet that I was in the area, and we could connect. It’s been a while.”
She starts walking backward, but before she’s out of earshot, I say, “Too long. I want to fully catch up soon.”
Pointing at me, she laughs. “And you owe me a meet and greet with the infamous Keats.” Her feet come to a sudden standstill. “You were supposed to introduce me to Gregory, and that never happened. What gives?”
“Oh my God, long story, but not only did I dodge a bullet, but you did. Trust me.”
“I’m trusting you, but I’m twenty-eight. It’s my turn to meet Prince Charming.” She turns and runs smack into a tall man in a dark wool coat, and he’s handsome.
One shot, friend. I quietly cheer her on. “You got this.”
After watching two strangers fall in love at first sight, a girl can dream for her friend on the street. I rush to the corner to catch a cab back to the hotel to shower and get to Keats’s place. I throw my arm in the air and step off the curb to get in the taxi that slammed on its brakes to pick me up.
The job hadn’t really crossed my mind once I left. We’ve been closed for the holidays, so I haven’t had to face or deal with it. Nobody knows I’m not going to show up next week. Do I give them the courtesy of submitting a resignation or just walk away from my father’s company like I am him?
Between the cards and cash I have on hand, I have enough money to cover the rent for a year. That doesn’t concern me. It’s the other stuff. The living stuff—food, bills, my phone, taxi rides, clothes, travel, and more than I can list off the top of my head. Am I naive for thinking I could pull this off? Dumb for even trying?
I can get another job. I have a degree and a résumé I’ve built, even if it’s not particularly impressive, since it was a job my father created to keep me occupied. But it counts, and I did a damn good job at it.
I hate that my hands are shaking, and my stomach is twisting in turmoil. This shouldn’t be happening. It was a new beginning for me, but now my past is catching up with me and ruining my present. Take a breath, Sosie. Breathe in. Hold it. And slowly exhale. It’s going to be fine. Everything is working in my favor. I manifest several times before the car pulls up to the hotel. I dash up the short flight of stairs, and though I’m not running inside the small lobby, my pace is still quickened.
“Ms. Stansbury?”
I hear my name just as I punch the button for the elevator. I look back. A woman waves her arm like she’s trying to flag down the Coast Guard from a dinghy. Our eyes connect when she leans over the desk. “Yes?”
The elevator dings, making me want to hop on. The sooner I get changed, the sooner I get to Keats. He’ll give the pep talk I need, and he’s a finance guy. Surely, he can help me put something together, so I understand my options and how long I have before I need to have a paycheck coming in again. I walk to the desk since the hotel attendant calls my name again. “Hi,” I say, standing in front of her with a big smile like I’m seeing my personal shopper at Chanel and she’s the key to scoring the exclusive bag I want.
“Sorry to interrupt your day, but there’s been a matter of payment declination.”
My brain riddles through the last word like it’s foreign to me, which isn’t entirely untrue. “I don’t understand.”
“Your card has been declined,” she snaps. “We’ll need another to add to our file. Unfortunately, due to this mis-happenstance . . .” Is she screwing with me? I’m absolutely positive that is not a real word. “We’ll need to charge the full stay this time.”