Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 117177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
“A local charity for cancer perhaps,” Natalia said instantly. “My grandmother died last year of lung cancer.”
A pang of sympathy echoed in my chest. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Her eyes brightened. “She was a wonderful lady and so proud of Pisano’s. She would be amazed to see me opening a fine-dining restaurant in Manhattan.”
“I’ll have Althea look into local charities and send a list for you to choose from. I’ll also email you over the budget breakdown. You’ll see a significant amount is going into swag, advertising on social media, banners, sidewalk boards, et cetera. After seeing the completed article”—I gestured to the dining room—“I’m glad we’re going light on party decor. We need to let this beautiful space shine.”
Natalia grinned as she exhaled a dramatic sigh of relief. “I’ve been so stressed about . . . well, everything. I have so much to handle, so much on my mind, and I have difficulty giving up control, but listening to you, these amazing plans, I feel like I’m in safe hands here, Hallie. Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me.”
And that was why I loved my job.
Tuesday 10:02
So I was thinking, if we are going to be neighbors, maybe you can come around for dinner one night?
Althea and I had just slipped out of the office to grab a quick lunch we could bring back to the office because we were, as usual, swamped, when I saw the text from Chris. We’d been texting back and forth since last week, sometimes about his party, but mostly we just sent each other fun, random thoughts. We bantered well.
And now this. A dinner invite.
I didn’t tell Althea about the text and pretended my preoccupation was with work as we waited in line at a local deli. But my mind raced with what to say. Would dinner with Chris count as overstepping with a client? Would Lia be disappointed and concerned? Or was I overthinking it? Chris counted as a friend now, right? Dinner with a friend was okay.
Althea and I returned to the office, and I sat down at my desk, lunch forgotten beside me as I stared at his text. I shouldn’t.
Yet, somehow, I couldn’t help myself. My fingers started to move before I could stop them.
Tuesday 13:03
Wait, you can cook?
Tuesday 13:11
Yes, I can cook. Can you not?
Tuesday 13:12
Um, it depends on your definition.
Tuesday 13:12
Gotchya, you can’t cook. You can bring the beers.
Tuesday 13:13
I can also bring dessert.
Wait, no.
That sounded wrong.
I mean actual dessert.
Tuesday 13:13
Is your face on fire right now?
Tuesday 13:13
You could cook on it.
Tuesday 13:14
Ha. Don’t worry about it. I knew what you meant. Do you bake?
Tuesday 13:14
No, but I have taste-tested many bakeries in the area and know all the best treats from all the best ones.
Tuesday 13:15
Okay, you can bring the beer and dessert. I just moved in, so I need to get the place organized, and then we’ll set that up.
Tuesday 13:15
Sounds great.
Thursday 08:12
Morning. So I know it’s last minute, but how would you feel about visiting my aunt’s place in the Hamptons this weekend?
Thursday 08:44
Good morning, Captain. How fortuitous. I have no events this weekend. Saturday?
Thursday 08:46
Yeah, this Saturday. I’m renting a car, so I’ll pick you up. I was thinking early so we can beat the traffic. 7am good?
Thursday 11:31
That works. I’m on Ocean Parkway.
Friday 07:48
My new apartment is opposite Prospect Park, so we’re not even a 10 min drive apart.
Friday 12:05
You live near a really good bakery.
Friday 12:07
You have a very naughty one-track mind.
Friday 12:08
Naughty?
Friday 12:09
Baked goods are naughty.
Friday 12:11
Stop using that word. It makes baked goods sound dirty. You can’t dirty up baked goods.
Friday 12:11
I beg to differ.
Baked goods are already dirty.
ROUGH PUFF pastry?
Filo (FEEL OH) pastry?
Friday 12:13
LOL. Stop it. You’ll ruin desserts for me.
Friday 12:14
I was in a bakery in Brooklyn that sold chocolate nipple cupcakes.
Friday 12:14
Now you’re making this up.
Friday 12:15
I’ll prove it. Anytime I go into a bakery now, I promise I will find a dirty-sounding cake and send you a pic.
Friday 12:15
That is a lofty task indeed. It makes what you did on the ISS look like child’s play.
Friday 12:16
Right?!
Friday 14:23
Okay. You’ve ruined bakeries for me forever. I just stopped in at my favorite Manhattan bakery, and they sell something called a summer berry grunt.
Friday 15:12
I told you.
Friday 17:06
You’re awful for opening my eyes to this. I feel like a kid who just realized their parents had sex to have me.
Friday 17:08
Oh, that is a far worse realization than discovering a bakery sells grunt cakes.
Friday 17:42
Truth. But still. Baked goods do sound dirty to me now.
Friday 17:50
And my work is done.
Friday 18:01
Find a loftier enterprise than ruining my innocence.
Wait.
That sounded wrong.
Dammit.
Friday 18:03
You’re funny, Goodman.
And I’m writing a book.
Does that count as lofty?
Friday 18:03
Seriously? Like fiction or an autobiography?
Friday 18:03
An autobiography. I think. I’m just writing whatever comes out at the moment. It just . . . happened. I’ve never thought of myself as a writer until now.