Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Sterling falls into step beside me as soon as I step out and lock the door. When he starts whistling a perfectly in-tune happy tune, it’s more than I can take.
“Beans is good,” I finally answer. “Really good. His farts smell like uh…more like Beans and less like rotting Armageddon to the exponent of death, multiplied by sixty-four.”
His smile is so genuine that it melts the icy bits inside me that are still lingering over the past four years and the fresh ice that frosted over from worrying that maybe he was just going to up and abandon me. Although it wouldn’t make any sense for him to do that given that if he wanted to, he could have just done it already and not gone to all that trouble with my family.
“I’m glad.”
Beans marks a signpost and then turns to me, his tongue lolling out, his stumpy tail wagging. He looks like he’s feeling better this morning too.
“And I’m glad that if you’re truly serious about us trying to make this work, you’re going to open up and start making the past four years make some kind of sense. You seem to know everything about me. Now I want to know about you. It might be rude and painful, and I’m sorry about that, but it’s also necessary. I need a crash course in all things Sterling so my husband isn’t a total stranger. Even if we take the time to date and get to know each other like regular people, which probably isn’t in the cards for us because that’s normal, and nothing about us or this or anything has been the way anyone else on this earth would do it, then I still know nothing, and I’m at a huge disadvantage.”
I half expect some brush-off or non-committal answer, but Sterling surprises me. He lets out a sigh that makes him sound like he’s been constipated for eight thousand years—might I recommend dog probiotics, but the people variety—and nods.
“Alright,” he says tightly. “Let’s walk, and I’ll tell you everything.”
Chapter ten
Sterling
I’ve spent a lifetime not talking about this. No, I’m not avoiding it. I’ll never forget where I came from, but I’ve never intentionally gone there either. I don’t want to talk about it now, but Weland deserves the truth, not just because she stood up for me with her family, but because I’ve chosen this. I’ve chosen to be here with her. Maybe I spent a lifetime consciously not choosing that either—a family, a wife, and a life like everyone else has—but perhaps there was a part of me that always wanted that.
Obviously, there is. I wouldn’t be here right now if there weren’t. Everyone always told me, and not exactly in a nice way either, that there would come a day when work wouldn’t be enough. The company wouldn’t be enough. Being married to my job wouldn’t be satisfying.
I didn’t know it was here until it blindsided me. As it is, I still don’t feel like that’s true. I don’t feel like it’s not enough. But I’m here. I’m here, and I’m finding that I want something in addition to it. I don’t feel like I have to carve a part of myself out to have the other. Maybe I’m just scrambled up, jet-lagged, and having emotional whiplash. That would explain a lot of the stuff I can’t properly explain to myself.
“Everything sounds a lot like crickets,” Weland says, her tone light and breezy. She’s holding Beans’ leash while he marks yet another pole. A dog’s pee reserve is astounding. Their bladder must be the size of a water tanker, but somehow, it magically fits inside them.
“Sorry. I’m just trying to think how to start.”
“I know. It’s all good. I was trying to make a joke because I thought that might make it easier, but it’s probably not. Take your time. We can walk all morning if you like.”
The street is endless, with rows of condo complexes, apartment buildings, and houses. Cars are parked all down both sides of the street. It might be early enough in the morning, but it’s still busy enough. We’re the only ones out walking so far. I guess we're not that early, and all the morning dog walkers are probably already at work.
“You teach guitar?” I ask.
Weland blinks. “That’s right.”
“When do you give lessons? I don’t want to mess that up for you.”
“Monday to Friday in the evenings and then in the afternoons on weekends. I just took last weekend off because of the stagette. I moved the lessons. I thought I’d be more…uh…well, busier.”
“Did your friends contact you?”
She tries really hard not to let her face fall, but I can see the disappointment in her eyes. “No, none of them did. I texted Kate because I didn’t want her to think I just left and bailed on them, but I haven’t even heard back from her yet, and it’s been days. She’s busy, though. Planning a wedding and all that.”