Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“That’s not how love works,” he said. “If you love someone, you don’t set them free like a damned butterfly. You chain them to your bed and use your mouth to convince them to stay.”
The sniffly laugh that bubbled out of me felt irreverent and inappropriate. No matter how much I appreciated his plan. “I just want some time to think,” I said at last. “I wasn’t expecting this.”
“Talk to him so you can tackle these things together. As a team.”
“I know… I will… I just… I want to see what’s what here first. Find out what my options are.”
It was difficult to hear Sam with a truck honking nearby, but I thought he muttered something about spending five years in a bath and only now realizing I was wet. I wasn’t sure what he meant exactly, but I knew I needed to go before I full-on cried and froze my eyeballs shut.
“Gotta go, Sam.”
“Love you, Mikey. Be safe.”
I nodded and gulped, grateful for my good friend. “Love you, too.”
After shooting Tiller a quick text to tell him I’d arrived safely, I made my way into the house and crawled into Tiller’s bed. It was blessedly still unmade and smelled of him. Thank god they hadn’t sent in the housecleaners yet. I didn’t care that I hadn’t had lunch and it was only midafternoon. I was warm and a little numb, and all I wanted was to curl up into a ball and sleep with the faint scent of Tiller surrounding me.
The following day, I happened to visit Truman’s spice shop while he was starting a class on using spices as antioxidants. After taking copious notes into my phone, I joined him and his friend Chaya for dinner at a brick-oven pizza place around the corner from his shop. Chaya was a surprisingly tall woman—originally from New Jersey—with a thick mane of dark, curly hair. If Truman was petite and unassuming, Chaya was his complete opposite. She and I talked each other’s ears off, alternatively making Truman blush and laugh. It was a much-needed break to my internal tension, and I returned home to the lodge that night relieved to realize I hadn’t once thought about the Riggers’ game against the Steelers.
But I couldn’t go to sleep without finding out who’d won and making sure Coach hadn’t gone against our deal and put Tiller in. I quickly visited the ESPN site on my phone to discover they’d won and Tiller hadn’t played. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, thankful for both outcomes.
I’d successfully ignored the message notification on my text app all day, but now I clicked into it.
Tiller: Good morning beautiful. Have a wonderful day. If you see anyone we know, tell them hi from me.
Tiller: Just arrived at the stadium. It’s going to be a busy day, but I wanted to tell you I can’t stop thinking about you.
Tiller: Oh, one more thing. I want you to know I support you in whatever you want to do. Follow your dreams. If that includes moving to Aster Valley, we’ll find a way to work it out, okay?
My heart thudded in my chest. Besides Sam, no one in my life had ever been so supportive of me. It made me feel… strong. It was exactly what I’d needed and wanted to hear.
A new text came in.
Stacy Clifton: Can you meet me for breakfast tomorrow at the diner? Something’s come up.
My hands started to shake as I replied to the real estate agent. I knew she’d been helping the Civettis with some concerns about the property, and the reality of the real estate deal made me nervous. What if the Civettis didn’t want me after all? What if they did? Either way, it was time to move forward and see what the future held.
Me: Sounds good.
I responded to Tiller next.
Me: Congrats on the win! Spent the day with Truman learning more about spices than you’d ever want to know. Sprinkle some nutmeg in your oatmeal. Helps with tissue damage.
When I went to sleep, I felt calmer, more settled in my skin. I didn’t know what the future held, but I knew it was going to be okay.
The next morning, when I sat down across from Stacy, my determination was tested.
“The Rockley property is no longer on the market,” she said, right off the bat. “I’m so sorry. When I called the Civettis to tell them about it, they were in the middle of flying back to Chicago for a family emergency. They wanted me to make their apologies to you as well.”
My heart fell. “I hope they’re okay?”
“Oh, yes. I believe one of their grandchildren broke a bone, and the Civettis were flying back to help look after him. I’m sure they’ll be in touch.”
Pim came by with the coffeepot, all smiles. “Hey, Mikey. Great to see you. Where’s your wingman?”