Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 114237 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114237 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
“Yes, I did, but the guy has a magical dick. No joke. After we broke up, I still hit him up for the occasional night of passionate sex. He does things with his hips and that dick that make your toes curl.”
My mouth dropped open. “What?”
“Oh, honey, he’s huge!” She fanned herself. “I’m getting hot thinking about it.”
“You’re engaged to another man!” I whisper-shouted.
“So? I’m not saying I’m going to jump in bed with Abram, I’m saying you should. He’ll get Tim right out of your head.”
I sighed. “Tim is out of my head. I’m not interested in a sex-only relationship.”
She gave me a look that screamed she thought I was lying.
“Wendy, I’m serious. Please don’t try and fix me up with anyone.”
When her expression didn’t change, I begged a little harder. “Please.”
With a dramatic roll of her eyes, she sighed. “Fine. I won’t. But please tell me you’re not interested in Truitt Carter.”
There was something about the way she had said that last statement that made me take pause.
“And why not? Only seconds ago, you said he was good looking.”
She swallowed hard, then avoided looking me in the eyes as she stated, “He’s just not your type, and I hear he sleeps around. A lot.”
“Thank you for the gossip, but I think I’ve formed my own opinions on Truitt. I’m going to head on out, talk soon.”
I kissed her on the cheek, then lifted my hand and gave Pete a wave. He was standing in the dining room, chatting while people lined up at the buffet table. The fresh flowers Wendy had put out everywhere masked the smell of the food. The odor was actually making me feel a bit nauseous, and I was positive I wasn’t the only person feeling that way. To say she had gone over the top with this dinner would be an understatement.
“Lunch this week!” Wendy called out.
I gave her a quick nod on my way out. Lunch would not be on my list of things to do this week with Wendy.
As I drove home, I turned left on Walter Street instead of right. Right would have led me home. Left led me directly to Imaginations Unlimited. If Truitt really had gotten a call, I knew he’d be there. Otherwise, the aching feeling that he was avoiding me would become all too real.
It didn’t take me long to pull up and find Truitt’s truck in the parking lot. I felt a little bit better knowing he hadn’t left the party because of me. There was only one other vehicle in the small parking lot. I made my way to the door, hoping it would be open. It was early evening, and I wouldn’t have been surprised to find people still working. Especially if they were attempting to have Liliana’s playground finished in time for Christmas.
With a quick twist of my wrist, I found the front door unlocked. I dragged in a deep breath and walked in.
“Hello?” I called out, hoping someone was in the offices. I was met by silence.
I’d come here only once since my first visit. My mother and I had dropped in when Truitt wanted us to see how a few different shades of yellow would look on the wood. The playhouse was in pieces then, so I had no real idea what it would look like.
I followed the path that led to the workshop space. The door was open, and I heard the faint sounds of music filtering through the hallway. It was a Waterloo Revival song. A two-member country group with original roots in Austin, and a band Truitt must have liked. He’d had them on in his truck when we went out on our little shopping trip.
Once I stepped inside the room, I froze. The playhouse in front of me was mostly in pieces still but laid out in a way that you could see what the finished result would be. The sight of it made my breath hitch in my throat. I tried to take every inch of it in. It was going to be massive, and I wanted to be angry, but it was so beautiful I couldn’t feel anything negative if I tried.
Movement caught my eye and I saw Truitt. He hadn’t seen or heard me yet, and with the music playing I wasn’t surprised. I moved to the side of the large crate and simply watched him. He was walking around each piece of the playhouse, inspecting it, writing down notes on a notepad and singing his heart out to “Like I Miss You.”
Something inside of me cracked open and I was flooded with a warmth I hadn’t felt in years. Lord knows I never felt it with my husband, and for a moment that made me sad. But this feeling, the rush of tingles that raced through my body when I saw Truitt, was too good to stay sad for long. I loved to see him so carefree and singing. The man even had a good singing voice.