Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
“Hello?” he says, his voice raspy.
“Sorry to wake you up.”
“No, baby, I asked you to. Bad dream?”
“Yes...no. I don’t know,” I spurt out.
He exhales. “3:32,” he mutters, and I look at the time.
“I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called.”
“Stop apologizing. I’m glad you did. Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really. I just wanted to hear your voice,” I say weakly.
“Okay, baby. Just go to sleep with me on the phone. I love you.”
“Thank you.” I love you. I love you more than you’ll ever know, Cole Murphy.
The next morning, I call Veronica and tell her that I urgently need to speak to her. She squeezes me in between two clients at 2:00. Classes start again next week, and this is my last week interning at Ross and Chevy Law. I’m going to take my lunch at 2:00 so that I won’t have to ask for half the day off—again.
My day at the office flies by, and when I look at the time it’s 1:30. I call Cole on my way to Lewis’. Cole’s on a show called Around the Horn today, but it airs at 5:00, so he should still be home.
“Hey, baby,” he greets.
“Hey,” I say, shuffling between a pack of angry lawyers in the lobby.
“What are you up to?” he asks with a smile in his voice.
“Just took lunch. I’m on my way to meet Veronica, so I can discuss whatever she called me about and tell her about the break-in.”
“Did you eat?”
“Nah, I’ll eat a granola bar and drink a protein shake on my way back though.”
“Blake,” he reprimands. “You need to eat.”
“I know, I know. I just don’t have time to stop today. What are you doing?”
“Waiting for a realtor,” he replies nonchalantly.
That stops me in the middle of the crowded sidewalk. The afternoon rush bumps me from all sides.
“To put your house back on the market? I thought it was a bad time to sell.”
“It is. I’m hoping someone will rent it for a while at least. If not, I’m willing to accept offers. We’ll see.”
I continue walking, speeding past some of the bumpers from a few seconds ago.
“Cole, shouldn’t you just wait it out? Take your time. There’s no rush for you to move. Have you heard back from the team?” He’d applied for a job with the football team here to be closer to me. I was thrilled, but uneasy about it since his job paid so well in New York.
“I’m not taking my time, there is a rush, and I did hear back from them,” he says, and I can hear his grin again, which makes me smile.
I bite my lip. “And?”
“And…they have a job for me, dummy.”
“That’s great,” I squeal. “Is it a good one? Did they make you a good offer? Are you still going to get paid the same amount? Oh my God, are you taking a pay cut? Maybe this isn’t the right move for you.”
“Blake,” he shouts laughing. “Calm down. The offer is great. It doesn’t matter, though; I was moving with or without a job. Trust me, I have enough money to survive without one. I just love what I do, and I’m glad I’ll still be able to do it. I need to be near you—that’s all that matters to me.”
I let out a sigh of relief and agree to call him after my meeting. I’m still smiling at the idea of Cole moving to Chicago when I walk through the lobby. I take the elevator up and greet Barbie’s kid sister. She asks me to sit as she calls Veronica. When the door opens, I look up expecting her, but see Mark instead. He signals me to follow him and I look at Skipper, who’s smiling at Mark while fixing her bleach-blonde hair. I close my eyes, take a breath, and follow Mark as he ushers me into his office and closes the door behind us.
“Veronica told me you were taking your lunch hour to meet her,” he says fixing his blue gaze on me.
“Yes,” I reply blinking rapidly.
“Did you eat?” he asks.
What’s up with this question? I look down at myself and awkwardly shake my head. You would think I look like a rail. “I’ll eat when I leave. I only have an hour.”
He walks to the bar and signals me to follow. He pulls out a chair for me, and I sit. There are three Chinese take-out containers and two plastic plates.
“I hope you like Chinese food,” he smirks.
“Sure,” I say slowly. “I don’t think there are many foods I don’t like.”
This is going very differently than last time. I serve my food, he serves his, and takes a seat on the opposite side.
“Tell me, Blake. When did they start contacting you about the land?” he asks as he hands me my silverware.