Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 55860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
“Then thank you for suffering through it for me. I had a great time.”
“I’m glad.”
“Where should we eat?”
“I thought you might have worked up an appetite,” I say.
“I really want one of those turkey sandwiches we got at the bodega. Do you care if we go get one?”
“Goat exercise and a grocery store sandwich. I’ve never met anyone like you, Serena Mayfield,” I say with a grin.
She wants to eat on the same bench where we went before. We share a glass bottle of orange soda. She talks about which goat was which and what their names were. I watch her, listen to her, and I feel smitten. Like I’m completely gone for this woman. That makes her more dangerous than any foe I’ve ever faced.
“When you make your fortune as a nurse, are you going to buy a bunch of goats?”
“Probably not. Nurses don’t work regular hours most of the time, and the goats would need outdoor space and a lot of attention.”
“The fact that you’ve given this a lot of thought concerns me.”.
“I think I’d be so relieved to finish my LPN, maybe even get my RN, that I don’t even let myself imagine a whole life with pets and friends and… a lover,” she says it shyly, looks away from me. I gather her hands in mine.
“Serena,” I say. “You have a lover.”
“Is that what you are? What this is? I miss you when we’re not together, and I never thought I could be so happy—and that was before you surprised me with goats.”
“We’re not keeping the goats,” I remind her.
“It was enough to play with them and see them up close. I never imagined this was possible. To fall for you so hard, to fall for you at all. Tell me it’s not in my imagination, because I worry about that sometimes.”
I tip her chin up with my fingers and catch her lips with mine.
“Tell me this isn’t real,” I say into her mouth. Tenderness and lust war for supremacy. I work her lips apart and dip my tongue into her mouth, stroking and tasting her. She melts into my arms. I murmur something about taking her home. I think I wouldn’t mind doing this until my heart gives out, but I don’t say the words. It’s too early for that, and I’ve never said them to anyone before.
11
SERENA
Jack doesn’t tire of me. He doesn’t decide I’m boring or too ordinary. He keeps doing the sweetest things. He has my favorite cereal at his place, spoils me with romantic dates and fiery nights. He even stays and sleeps in with me a couple of times when we wear each other out.
I have a keycard to his elevator, a drawer with my clothes in it. Clothes he picked out for me himself, because he likes doing that sort of thing. I tease him that I’m just his favorite pet, that he pampers me and plays with me but the newness will wear off.
He doesn’t think that’s funny, and tells me that despite my enthusiasm for goats, he has never had a pet and never wants one. He wants me all the time. I can’t hide how much that thrills me.
I’ve spent the night at his apartment a dozen times. I’ve watched three seasons of True Blood with him—the show that he grudgingly admitted is his favorite during some revealing pillow talk. It gets on his nerves that I’m not a Bill fan. I suspect that the Mob boss I’m having an illicit affair with identifies with the world-weary vampire in the show. I tease him about it just to watch him bristle at the suggestion.
To earn my keep, so to speak, I show off my ability to drain an infected suture in the back room at the bar, and I take care of a couple of guys who got into a knife fight over a woman. I dispense ibuprofen and even help an old guy with an ingrown toenail. I like putting my skills to good use, keeping them fresh, and it keeps me from feeling like I’m a charity case at Bettino’s.
Most evenings I’m only there a couple of hours. Then Jack picks me up and we go to dinner or take a walk by the river. I don’t exactly have to worry about being mugged or harassed when I’m with him. I know he has security, the discreet kind, but I can’t imagine him needing it when he’s so alert, so dangerous himself.
He takes me salsa dancing, and he’s good. I’m surprised, but I admit the way he moves his body, the moves I’ve come to know and dream of, make sense with this kind of dancing. I have a hard time remembering which way to turn to go under his arm, and I make mistakes. We laugh together, and I can’t remember ever feeling this joyful, this free of everything.