Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 110201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 441(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
“What’d you talk about?”
Travis got to wherever he was going to, which must have been his office. He shut the door, unclipped his radio from his belt, and set it down on his messy desk so he could take a seat behind it. In the corner, I saw the cot where he’d probably slept last night.
“He apologized and he,” Travis’s voice filled with weight, “told me he loved me.”
The phone slipped out of my hand, landing with a loud thud on the breakroom table, and I scrambled to pick it up. “He did?”
“Yeah. It’s not the same way he loves you. Like you said, it’s more of a platonic thing.”
“What’d you say?”
His smile caused warmth to flood across my skin and my heart to go out of rhythm. His voice was as soft as his kiss could be, and just as powerful. “I told him I love him too.”
I lifted a shaky hand and pressed it over my mouth, overwhelmed. Holy shit. “What does this mean?”
“It means he really needs to talk to you.”
The radio on his desk crackled, and although the call wasn’t for him, it reminded us both that he could be pulled away at any moment. He leaned closer to the phone, looking so handsome and happy, I wished I could touch him through the screen.
“Okay,” I said. “You don’t want me to wait for you?”
“No, you can call me afterward though.” He blinked, considering something. “Hey. I love you.”
We’d spoken about it but hadn’t actually said it to each other. Not even Friday night when he’d been at my place. Was it strange that I liked how the men had said it to each other first, before me?
I grinned. “I love you too.”
We said goodbye, and as soon as the call disconnected, I thumbed out my message to Clay.
Me: My schedule just cleared up. What time do you want me to come over?
TWENTY-SEVEN
After a shower, I got dressed in a cowlneck sweater, jeans, and a pair of plaid pumps with a pointed toe. I didn’t head over early to Clay’s house like I used to. I’d stick to the plan of meeting at seven and rang his doorbell at precisely that time, so there’d be no surprises.
When he opened the door, I was struck by how different he looked.
He brightened and a big smile widened on his lips, announcing how glad he was to see me, but dark circles clung below his eyes. He looked tired. Maybe even exhausted. While I was sad to see him suffering, I wondered . . . were Travis and I the cause?
He gestured politely for me to come in, and once I stood in his entryway, he reminded me of how Travis had been after he’d left this house on Friday. His hands seemed to ache to reach for me, but he knew better.
Tension wove between us so thickly, it strangled back his words, and he barely got it out. “I’m sorry.”
Okay, that was good.
I’d expected him to say more, but then he just stood there, looking lost. Did he not have a plan for how this was supposed to go?
Noir peeked her head around the corner, saw it was me, and gave a friendly meow in greeting. She brushed up against the wall before turning around and doing it back the same way she’d come from, trying to entice me to follow her.
So, I did, which added to Clay’s confusion. He fell in behind me as I strode into the living room.
I pulled to a stop when I saw the new addition. Noir seemed proud to show off this custom piece of furniture. She went to the base of the tree and vaulted up it, passing by the first platform and continuing to climb higher. There were several platforms to choose from, but she stopped at one in the middle so she could dig her claws into the sisal rope section that was wound tightly around the center support.
It wasn’t like the cheap, two-tiered cat tower covered in carpet I’d bought her months ago, which she’d mostly destroyed instead of Clay’s furniture, thankfully.
For one thing, this piece was taller than I was. The center support was a bare, whitewashed tree trunk with a natural curve and a fork halfway up, splitting off into two smaller branches. The platforms were covered in thick, white faux fur, which gave the impression there were clouds floating around the tree.
Like everything else he did, it was beautiful. How in the world did he do that? He’d created a cat tower, but it was also gorgeous art. And it looked even better when Noir finished sharpening her claws and climbed up onto the next platform, nestling in on her cloudlike bed. The black of her coat popped out and complimented the monochromatic piece.
I reached over and scratched her behind the ears, enjoying the contented purr she awarded me.