Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
I chuckle to myself and roll onto my back, too.
My body sinks into the cushion, nice and relaxed from the heat. I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since my pizza party with Mom two nights ago. When the townhouse stills for the night and nothing distracts me, my thoughts return to her. “Two months is a long time, Georgia.”
I’ve tried not to panic over my unemployment. I’ve ignored the statistics that the current average rate of joblessness is nine months. I can’t afford to be unemployed for nine months. Instead, I’ve been focusing on what I can do to help the situation. But Mom’s words dig into my confidence—ruffling my fear that I won’t be able to find work and will wind up … at her house.
The thought makes me ill.
“Things have a way of working out,” Sutton says, almost offhandedly.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. I was just thinking.” She wiggles her toes again. “Two years ago, I was twenty-seven and terrified that I’d wind up alone forever. But look at me now. I’m on the cusp of having more than I even dared to dream.”
“It’s not that hard to imagine. You met your soulmate.”
Her head whips to mine with wide eyes. “Excuse me? Did you confirm the existence of soulmates?”
I roll my eyes. “I’ve never said I didn’t believe in them. I said that I don’t necessarily believe that everyone has one, and I don’t know that there’s one for me. Get your facts straight.”
She laughs. “Hey, speaking of soulmates, did I tell you what happened yesterday?”
“If you did, I don’t remember,” I say, reaching for my iced water.
“Okay, so there was one piece of my project at work that I hadn’t quite figured out. We plugged a solution in for it to keep the train moving, so to speak, but it was still wonky to me. I couldn’t figure it out. But then, someone in the office said they lost their phone and was terrified someone would find it, break into it, and look at their search history.”
I make a face. “Yeah. That’s my worst nightmare.”
Sutton’s brows lift.
“What?” I ask, taking a sip of water, then putting my tumbler down. “I look up some really weird shit when I can’t sleep.”
“Such as …?”
“Okay. I was watching a documentary about astronauts, and I wondered how they poop in space. So I looked it up.”
Sutton bursts out laughing.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t looked up odd things,” I say.
“I’ve never looked up the bathroom habits of astronauts.” She bites her lip to keep from laughing but fails. “What else do you search?”
“What color is lightning?” I pull my sunglasses over my eyes. “Men speaking in Italian. So hot.” I hum while I think. “What sign is most compatible with Taurus? Poisonous flowers. How to spell Mississippi. Do kangaroos really fight people? How long until you bleed out if you cut the tip of your finger? Porn.”
Sutton gives up and howls with laughter.
“If someone got ahold of that without knowing me, imagine the picture that would be painted,” I say. “They’d think I was an illiterate teenage boy.”
“I can’t with you.” She shakes her head, getting herself together. “But, in that case, you’ll hate my idea.”
“For what?”
“The one thing I didn’t have nailed down was how the two people on the show would be matched. We’re handpicking the first two people to shoot the pilot, so there isn’t actual matchmaking at work right off. But we needed to have an interesting way to say this guy and this girl are a potential love connection.”
My jaw drops. “You are not going to match them by their search histories.”
“We are.” Her smile is wide and bright. “It’s perfect! What you look up is the essence of who you are, right?”
“It’s the essence of who I am when I think no one will ever know.”
“Exactly.” Her amusement at my reaction is written across her face. “We can play this in so many ways. It’s fun. It’s relatable because everyone fears being judged—and being judged for your search history? The drama.”
I side-eye her and frown. “Yeah. Drama is right. Good luck with that. I hope this show is a success, but I’m afraid I’m starting to doubt that anyone will want to participate.”
The patio door slides open. Jeremiah steps into the backyard, his gaze going straight to Sutton.
“Hey!” She sits up, beaming. “I thought you were working all afternoon.”
“This is my time, dude. Go away,” I say, grinning at him.
“Accounting is behind, so half of the work I was trying to do today is stalled until they complete the files,” he tells Sutton. Then he looks at me. “I brought sandwiches from Stupey’s as a peace treaty. Does that help?”
I pretend to consider it. “It helps a little.”
He laughs, but there’s an edge to it—one I can’t overlook.