Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 115833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
I figured that had something to do with Tish announcing my week off—well, more like my three days off. Normally, he was brief and dry, but in our recent emails he’d been very thorough and was signing off with words like take care and be well.
And just to make it clear, the only time he did that before was right after Lewis died. I guess I’d raked in his pity again. I hated pity, but not as much when it came from a billionaire investor who threw money at every inconvenience.
Once that was done, I decided to go over a few more of the new label designs for our rosewater face mist. As I did, my phone chimed on the table. I gave it a glance, ready to dismiss it—until I saw that familiar name again.
Deke.
Business Davina switched off, and my heart sped up a few notches, which was weird. I tried ignoring the feeling.
As if someone was watching, I played it cool by resting an elbow on top of the table, dropped my chin into my hand, and swiped my phone open to read his email.
From: Deke Bishop
To: Davina Klein-Roberts
7:34 p.m.
How you holding up?
Oh.
They were simple words, but enough to make me shift in my seat. Was he pitying me too? Was that what all the emails had been about?
I put my phone back down, then closed the lid of my laptop. After I poured myself a glass of water and took a few gulps, the doorbell rang.
“Hey, girl!” Tish sang when I swung the door open. She sauntered past me, and the savory scent of Chinese food drifted past my nose, making my stomach grumble.
I hadn’t eaten much that day, just a few nibbles of a sandwich Tish had ordered for lunch earlier. I’d mostly drunk tea to get by, but now I was starving.
“I’m glad you’re here.” I met her in the kitchen. “I’m hungry as hell.”
“Well, lucky for you I got the lo mein and the orange chicken—the owner even tossed in extra fortune cookies.”
“I’m positive that man is in love with you, Tish.” I grabbed plates and silverware. “Didn’t he give you free fried rice one time? And not the plain rice—it had shrimp in it. Name me one restaurant owner who gives away free shrimp.”
“Oh, he did do that, didn’t he?” She allowed the thought to marinate as I set the plates on the counter. “Well, anyway, a lot of people love me. Take Lorenzo, for example. He wants me to come to Virginia Beach with him. He claims it’s for work, but I think there might be something more to it.”
“More as in?” I glanced at her as I opened one of the food containers. The steam rose from the greasy noodles and danced around my face. My stomach was practically caving in now.
“As in an engagement, girl!” she exclaimed.
“Oh, wait!” I paused, giving her my full attention. “You think so?”
“I do! It’s been two years for us now, and I swear I saw him scrolling through wedding rings on his phone a few weeks ago.”
“Aww, that’ll be nice, Tish. You should go with him to the beach, see if it’s actually more than what he says.” I plopped some noodles on my plate as Tish opened a new bottle of wine.
“I don’t know. We have so much to set up for the rebranding party, and I was supposed to work this Saturday to help out at the warehouse.”
I stopped loading my plate to penetrate her with my eyes. “Tisha Cole. I appreciate your devotion, I truly do, but life is too short. Go with Lorenzo. Spend some quality time with him. The warehouse can wait.”
I pressed my lips and fought the sudden tug in my chest. Talking about this made me miss Lewis, and to add fuel to the fire, my eyes traveled to one of the photos on the floating shelves.
We were standing hand in hand on the shore of Newport Beach. Lew wanted to learn how to surf but was so bad at it. I was surprisingly good. We were both sandy in the picture, with big white smiles and a grand turquoise ocean behind us.
“Hey.” A hand pressed to my back. Tish was standing closer. Her brown eyes searched mine as she asked, “You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.” I dropped my eyes to my plate and picked it up. “Just really hungry.” I carried the plate with me to the dining table and sat. Tish came my way with two empty wineglasses and the bottle of rosé, pouring both halfway.
After sliding the glass toward me, she said, “You can talk about Lewis at any time, Vina. I promise you I’m here to listen.”
“I know. I just feel like I’ve talked about him with you so much that you’re low-key sick of it.”