Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Grace (Office) PA: Thank you for the soup today and for making sure I’m okay.
Two things happen at the same time, my chest gets tight and then my hand grips the phone even harder. Why the fuck is she texting me when her boyfriend is right there with her? Boyfriend. Just the word makes my jaw twitch. I mean, I knew it was a possibility, but then to see it with my own eyes. It was just an eye-opener, more or less. I mean, did I need to go to her place to see if she was okay? No. Should I have sent a message to her instead of going there? Yes. Not my best moment, for sure. I look down at the message, wondering what she’s doing right now. I wonder if she ate some of the soup. I wonder if she got sick after I left. It’s none of your business, I remind myself.
Ignoring the pull to answer her, I put the phone back down on the counter. The minute I walk away from it to clean up the fiasco I made during dinner, all I can do is look back toward where the phone sits. “Don’t even think about it,” I tell myself as I pile all the dishes into the sink. As I rinse off the plates, my mind stupidly and unconsciously goes back to Grace. I am never, ever going to admit how much this actually happens. Whenever my head gets a minute to think, it’s always fucking Grace it thinks of. My stomach gets tight when I remember listening to her get sick from the hall, and all I could do was wait for her. In honesty, I did try to open the door, but it was locked, so all I could do was wait. Then watching her almost fall, not even going to lie, I was one second away from calling 9-1-1. Then when she lay down, all I could do was watch her, waiting for her to jump up and be sick again, but luckily, she was fine. I should have left. I should have done a lot of things, but leaving was at the top of that list. There is also a column for things I shouldn’t have done. I shouldn’t have bared my soul to her about Marylin. I shouldn’t have ordered her lunch and waited for her to eat it. I shouldn’t have wanted to lie down and hold her.
The phone rings from the counter when I put the last dish into the dishwasher. My hand stills midway as my heart picks up its pace, thinking maybe she’s calling me. I wipe my hands on the dishrag before grabbing my phone and seeing it’s Nash.
“Hello,” I answer, putting the phone to my ear before turning to start the dishwasher.
“Yo,” he says, and I roll my eyes. “I’ll be in town tomorrow. Can I come and hang with my niece so I can get best uncle credits?”
I laugh at him. “You’re her only uncle,” I remind him, “so you get that regardless of if you are cool or not.”
“I’ll be there by ten, and maybe tomorrow night we can go out on the town,” he says, his voice getting excited. “Get you laid so you can be in a better mood.”
“Not interested,” I say curtly, wiping down the counter.
“In sex or going out?” he asks, his voice going to a whisper.
“In going out,” I groan. “If you want, we can go to a bar and watch the hockey game.”
“Fun,” he replies, “I haven’t done that since I was in college.”
“Goodbye.” I hang up on him. I finish cleaning the kitchen, and instead of watching television, I go into the office, going through all my emails. What an exciting Friday night, I laugh at myself when I slide into bed.
The next morning, I wake up early, opting to work out upstairs. After two hours, I’m showered and in the kitchen, making a protein shake when Meadow comes downstairs. “Morning, Dad,” she greets, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
“Morning, baby girl,” I say to her as she comes to me and I pick her up in my arms, laying her head on my shoulder. “How did you sleep?”
“Not good,” she complains, and I look over seeing she slept ten hours; she’s fine.
“Uncle Nash is coming over today,” I tell her, and all of a sudden, she’s fine. “He’s going to come to the park with us.”
“Goody,” she cheers, squirming down. “Are you making pancakes?” I look down at her as she skips to the living room. “With strawberries and blueberries?” I laugh, thinking this is her way of saying this is what you are making me for breakfast, or else. Nash comes in twenty minutes later and the three of us spend the day outside. I even put her to bed before heading out for the night.