Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 92360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“The dog?”
“Yeah. That little thing barks at everything.”
“Maybe you should just call him.”
“You’re no fun,” I huff, all dramatic on purpose. “And I’ll call him later.”
“Sounds good, and I’m sure my mom will try to get him and Wendy over for dinner too, just like old times.”
“I’d like that.”
Sam kneels on the bed. “I gotta go to work now.”
“Do you have to go?” I push up so I can give him a kiss. “Can’t you stay here and tend to your very sick, very needy—in a sexual way—patient?”
“Fuck, I wish,” he groans and falls onto the bed with me. We kiss once more, and he forces himself up. Needing to pee, I get up with him, and walk him to the door, getting another kiss before he leaves. I pour myself a cup of coffee and take it to the couch, curling up with a blanket.
Logically, I know that since I’m up, I should drink my coffee, write a chapter or two, and then tackle the rest of my work so I can be done for the day and won’t have to worry about it over the weekend. I should leave my computer here when we go to Silver Ridge tonight, and fully take the weekend off. The downfall from working from home and not having set hours is I never give myself breaks. I’m always working and have gotten so used to it I feel like I’m doing something wrong when I enjoy a few days without either writing, checking in with Karina, or managing something on social media.
I make it so far as drinking half my coffee and opening my laptop before I set my mug on the coffee table and lie down. My head is starting to hurt again and I’m cold. Once I warm up, I’ll get to work…only I doze off and wake up sweaty two hours later since I’m wrapped in a blanket. Sunlight is streaming through the large windows, creating a glare on my computer screen.
Getting up to get more coffee, I get my phone from the bedroom where it’s still plugged into the charger and call my dad.
“Hey, kiddo,” he answers. “How are you?”
“I’m good. I’m in Chicago visiting Sam.”
“How is he treating you?”
“Very well, and if you want to question his intentions you can tonight. We’re going to drive up to Silver Ridge for the weekend.”
“You have terrible timing, Chloe,” Dad laughs. “Wendy and I are upstate visiting her sister.”
“Again?” I shake my head, amused that I’m two for two on spontaneous trips to Silver Ridge when Dad isn’t there.
“She’s going through a divorce,” he says quietly. “And having a rough time with it.”
“Oh, damn. That has to be hard. How long are you going to be there?”
“Well, yesterday we had to convince her not to sell her house and buy a yacht, so it may be a while. You two are only going to be in town for the weekend?”
“Yeah, we’ll probably leave Sunday afternoon. Sam has to be back in Chicago for work on Monday. He leaves pretty early so I’m sure he’ll want to be here by like dinner time so we can go to bed at a decent hour.”
“Next time you go to Chicago, let me know and Wendy and I will come down and have dinner with you two.”
“That would be nice! I’ll miss you when we get to Silver Ridge. I was hoping to stay at the house and watch the sunrise over the lake in the morning.”
“You can stay at the house. In separate bedrooms, that is.”
“Deal,” I laugh. “Is Balloon with you?”
“I don’t go anywhere without him.”
I smile again. “You and that dog. Who would have thought you’d be one of those people who takes their dog everywhere.”
“Not me,” Dad chuckles. “Wendy got him a stroller. I haven’t sunk to the level of actually using it yet, though we did bring it.” Right on cue, the dog barks in the background. “You have a key to the house, right?” Dad asks and then calls for Balloon to stop barking.
“Yeah. I think. I mean, I have one, but I’m not sure if I brought it.” The single key to the front door is usually in my wallet.
“If not, there’s a spare out back.”
“Under a fake rock?”
“Hah, what do you take me for, kid? It’s in a little magnetic box that’s stuck under the table on the deck.”
“Sneaky, I like it.”
Balloon keeps barking. “I’ll let you go,” Dad says over the yipping. “Carla has a cat and Balloon is not a fan.”
“Poor kitty. Bye, Dad, love you.”
“Love you too, kiddo.”
I end the call and get up, walking around the apartment to try and shake the sluggish feeling. Yawning, I make another cup of coffee and sit at the island counter. I have to go back and reread what I last wrote before I can start anything new, and I get excited for the upcoming demon fighting scene, though writing about Kellie running through the woods, using magic to tackle the demons sounds exhausting, even though my ass is parked on the metal barstool. It makes sense to me, but sometimes I have a hard time explaining that to other people.