Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
This is what I need. It’s what I’ve needed for longer than I’ve realized. Suzie died and Zach became my friend; he filled the void she left. We bonded over our love for her. Then he became my husband. And when I fell in love with my husband, I no longer had a friend. I no longer had a home for my emotions.
Leah’s given me a job, confidence, a boost in my pursuit of a career, but more than all of that, she’s become my friend. In some ways, I needed a friend more than a job.
She listens.
I cry.
She gets emotional with me.
We talk through everything, yet we solve nothing. There is nothing to solve with Zach. I can’t fix him because I think losing someone you love does irreparable damage.
However, I can travel the world with Leah. And that’s what I do.
I build my portfolio and help her build hers.
I meet amazing people along the way and find moments of solitude in what feels like uninhabited corners of the earth.
I drop postcards in the mail for Zach and text about nothing in particular, text like we didn’t share something intimate—like friends, but not the kind of friends who share everything.
Zach keeps me up to date on Aaron and Danielle’s wedding plans. I respond without showing my painful envy that his brother is marrying a woman for love and planning a real wedding.
This friendly exchange continues until the end of summer approaches and Leah gets a call while we’re in the middle of recording a Top Ten Places to See in Israel video.
“Oh my god …” She holds her phone with one hand while covering her mouth with her other hand. “Is he going to be okay? When’s the surgery? Please give him a hug for me. Tell him that I love him, and that I’m on my way home.”
“Leah?” I reach for her arm while her thumbs frantically work the phone screen.
“M-my dad had a heart attack. We … we have to go home.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
I text Zach before we fly out of Tel Aviv. When we arrive in London for a short layover, he still hasn’t responded. Just as we board the flight to Atlanta, he texts me.
Zach: Have a safe trip. I won’t be home until Saturday. Tell Leah I’m sorry to hear about her dad.
That gives me two days at home without him. I might need the time to catch up on sleep, do laundry, spoil Harry Pawter, and get my head in the right space.
An Uber takes me home, and I drag my tired ass into the house. “Harry!” I don’t even get the door shut before I pick him up and probably scare him to death with my intense enthusiasm.
He stays by my side over the next two days while I go to town with laundry and cleaning the house from top to bottom. I order groceries since I’m technically not supposed to drive for another month and a half to follow proper seizure protocol, which I know is important to Zach.
When I hear the back door open, I hold my breath and pause my photo editing from my favorite spot on the sofa. Why am I so nervous?
“Pawter,” I hear Zach say, and it feels so good to hear his voice. Since Malaysia, there have been lots of messages, but we didn’t call each other.
Not once.
Not a single video chat either.
The wedge between us has been silent but huge.
For me, I know it would have been too hard to hear his voice and not want to be with him. I’m not sure why he never called or wanted to see my face or hear my voice, but I’ve told myself it’s the same reason for him too.
“Hi.” Zach grins, peeking his head around the corner to the living room.
God … I think he’s even sexier than the last time I saw him.
“Hi.” I let my grin have a big fat parade all over my face.
“Welcome home.”
Home …
Is this my home?
“Thanks. You too.”
He chuckles, sauntering into the kitchen to get a beer from the fridge. “I haven’t been gone that long. I bet Pawter didn’t even recognize you.”
“Harry Pawter. And he absolutely recognized me.”
Zach pops the top of his beer bottle and tosses it into the trash, pausing at the kitchen sink. “Did you … clean?”
“Yes. I cleaned everything. Thanks for noticing.”
“Emersyn, you’re not my maid anymore.” He makes his way to his bedroom.
“You’re letting me live here rent free. I have to earn my keep.”
“You’re never here,” he calls from his bedroom or probably his closet, changing out of his uniform.
Closing my computer, I pad my bare feet along the hardwood floor to his bedroom and lean against the wide wood threshold. “I’m here now. And I’m not sure when Leah will be ready to leave again, so I’m going to do my part.”