Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Delete.
I’m about to type something else, when another text comes in.
Easton: Everything okay? You’ve been typing for a little while…
Oh. My. God. Face meet palm.
Fuck it. I’m a grown ass woman. Why am I beating around the bush?
Me: You never texted me this morning.
As I hit send, the professor concludes his lecture and assigns the pages to read for next class. I pack up my stuff and head out. Since it’s my last class of the day, I walk over to the front of the school where the car service Easton hired is waiting. They know what time I get out and are always here on time.
“Good afternoon, ma’am. Where to?”
“Home, please.”
I buckle in and pull my phone out to see if Easton responded. He did.
Easton: It almost sounds like you want me to text you, Dash…
Damn him. He’s good at putting that damn ball in my court.
Me: Maybe I do.
I hit send then quickly type another text and send it. Maybe I’m hungry…And I’m not talking about food…
There! Take that! I can totally flirt too.
I hold my breath, waiting to see how he’s going to respond, as my heart beats wildly in my chest. I don’t think I’ve ever flirted with anyone before, and definitely not this forward.
I wait.
And wait.
No response.
Shit! Did I say something wrong? Maybe his phone died… I click on the tracking app he downloaded onto both our phones, so he would be able to see where I am in case anything ever happened to me—his battery life is full. He’s in Vegas, but it’s early there, so he’s not at a show.
Do I text him again? Maybe it didn’t go through… Although, it does say delivered. The car drops me off in front of Easton’s house and the gentleman tells me he’ll be back in a couple hours so we can pick up Kendall from school. I thank him and get out, slinging my bag over my shoulder. Once I’m inside, I find Maria is in the laundry room folding some clothes—that woman is seriously a godsend.
“Hello, dear, how was school?” she asks, smiling warmly at me.
“Good.”
“Are you hungry?”
I stifle a giggle at her question. “I’m—” My answer is cut off by the sound of my phone ringing. I pull it out of my pocket and see it’s Easton. Holy shit! He’s calling me. I expected him to text me back, not call me! “I’m tired. I’m going to go lie down,” I say quickly, sprinting out of the room and up the stairs so I can answer the phone call in private. But before I can hit accept, the call ends.
Shit.
Then it rings again.
This time I answer it before the first ring has finished. “Hello?” I do my best to even out my breathing, so I don’t sound like I just ran up three flights of stairs.
“What the hell was that?” Easton demands.
“What was what?”
“You’re hungry, and not for food…” Oh, that. Duh! “What the hell is that, Dash? I’m in the middle of a radio interview and that’s what you text me?”
“Um…” I can’t tell if he’s mad…
“I had to finish my interview so I could call you. I’d ask if you’re drunk, but I know you’re not since you’re pregnant. Is that your idea of a joke? Because I have to say that shit ain’t funny.”
Oh no, I think he’s mad…
“Sophia,” he groans. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I admit, suddenly feeling stupid. “I was just joking.”
He’s quiet for a long moment before he sighs and says, “All right. I have to get going. You and the baby are okay?”
“We’re good,” I croak out.
“Kendall’s good?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll call her later so I can tell her about Vegas.”
“Okay.”
There’s an awkward lull in the conversation before Easton says, “I’ll talk to you later.”
He hangs up and I’m left staring at my phone, wondering what the hell just happened. I could be wrong, but he almost sounded sad. Was he hoping I was serious?
I shed myself of my coat and hoodie, since it’s warm inside, and climb into my bed. I’m exhausted and I have a couple hours before I have to pick up Kendall. A nap will help give me a second wind.
But as I lie in bed, snuggling into my pillow, I can’t stop thinking about Easton’s and my brief conversation. That’s not the way I wanted it to go, like at all. Instead of falling asleep, I grab my phone from my nightstand and type out a message: I lied. I wasn’t joking.
Easton: You said you wanted space…
Me: I know, but I’ve changed my mind.
Easton: What’s changed?
And that’s where the heart of the issue lies. Unless I tell him the truth about Freeman, I’m going to be keeping a secret from him. A huge secret. And while I’ve never been in a serious relationship, I imagine that’s not the way to start one. My mind goes back to Easton’s and my conversation on Christmas Eve…