Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 94903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Oh, and Megan?”
“Yes?”
“I’m serious. If you have competing offers or have taken another position, I’ll match salaries. I need you.”
I slow blink, blindsided by her admission. “Okay. I’ll email you next week.”
“Have a good weekend,” she says.
“You, too. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”
I end the call and stand frozen in place. “What just happened?”
The door swings open, and Chase walks in clad in a pair of gray sweatpants sans shirt. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he knows exactly what he’s doing.
I turn away before I drool and take out two plates, glasses, and a Sprite. I hold up a beer, offering it to Chase. He nods and picks up the pizzas.
“You know,” I say, following him into the living room. “I thought we said no lingerie.”
He puts the pizzas on the ottoman. “Huh. I don’t remember that one. Why? Do you want to break out something sexy tonight?”
“Uh, no. Maybe I lumped it in with no cleavage.”
He looks at his chest. “Yeah, well, I don’t have any of that, so I’m good.”
“Gray sweatpants are men’s lingerie. Everyone knows that.”
He snorts, opening the boxes. “Who made up that bullshit?”
“Not me, but I concur.”
Slowly, he stands and runs a hand down his abs. He smirks. “Want me to change?”
“I do not.” I put a slice of pizza on my plate, not looking at Chase, and then sit at one end of the couch. “Fridays are pizza and movies. Is that right?”
He chuckles. “Yeah. That’s right.”
“We don’t have to do this, you know. I can go to my room and hang out—give you some space. Or I can even take your mom’s car and—”
“Respectfully, hush.” He grins. “You’re not going anywhere. Eat your pizza and relax.”
“Yes, sir.”
He rolls his tongue around his mouth but doesn’t say anything.
After grabbing a couple of pieces of pizza and his beer, he sits on the other side of the sofa. He hands me the remote, giving me a look not to argue with him, then gets comfortable.
I have no idea what to watch. So instead, I decide to talk.
“Guess who I had lunch with today?” I say before taking a bite.
“Who?”
“Gavin.”
Unamused Chase is amusing.
“I was at The Wet Whistle before I was supposed to get Kennedy at school—”
“Yeah, I’m sorry for not telling you she was going home with Neve. It slipped my mind.”
I shrug. “It’s fine. No harm, no foul.”
He grimaces and goes back to his dinner.
“Anyway, I was eating,” I say, “and Gavin walks in. We had an interesting little chat.”
“What about?”
I grin. “Gavin stuff.”
He scoffs. “That sounds like a headache to me.” He takes another bite. “Did Luke come by today?”
“Not while I was here. You know, I’ve yet to meet the infamous Luke.”
“You’re not missing much.”
“I don’t know. You and Gavin are two-for-two on the interesting level.” I open my can of Sprite. “Apparently, I’m interesting too, though, because my former boss, Dorothy, just offered me my job back.”
“Oh?” He chews slower. “You gonna take it?”
I sigh, falling back against the pillows. “Honestly? I don’t know.”
“Did you like working there?”
“Well, that’s tricky. On the one hand, I loved it. I got to travel all over the world and attend events and meet all kinds of people. But, on the other hand … no. I didn’t. Not really—not thoroughly.”
Chase places his beer on the end table. The sound of the can hitting the wood dings through the room.
The light overhead is dim—something I haven’t noticed about the living room until now. The room is pretty dark without the television's light, the sun's rays from the window, or the lamp by the fireplace.
“What was the worst part of the job?” he asks.
“Well, I guess it was just the loneliness of being on the West Coast alone. Mom won’t leave Dallas—which is ridiculous on so many levels. But I get it. Her life is there; she shouldn’t have to uproot all that for me.”
Although, I wish she would.
“But you liked California?” he asks.
“It was lovely. I don’t think it’s for me, per se. So many people. So much garbage. Never a dark sky or a quiet evening—two things I didn’t know I loved until I came here.”
We exchange a grin.
“So what did you love about your job?” he asks before taking another bite.
I set my plate on a box and then curl my feet up under me.
“My favorite thing was the traveling,” I say. “I saw so many incredible places—Morocco, Greece, Peru. Iceland was amazing. Maine and New Hampshire and Vermont in the fall were stunning.”
“Is that something you still want to do?”
I laugh. “Strangely enough, no. It’s odd because it was my favorite part, but I’m … tired, I guess. There’s nothing left that I’m chomping at the bit to see and so much else that I’d rather do.”
“Like what?”
“Fuck if I know. I just know that I feel like I’ve completed that part of my life. So another part has to be open, right?”