Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Seriously? I was on edge today.
I took a few deep breaths and went to grab my phone, the buzzing of which had been the catalyst to my near disaster, and suddenly realized my cell was no longer on the sink. Dread settled into my stomach, but I looked around everywhere, leaving what I feared most for last.
Not on the floor.
Didn’t fall into the sink.
No miraculous leap into the nearby garbage can.
My eyes dropped to the tub.
Shit.
There sat my phone—on the bottom of the half-full bath.
In my frenzied scramble to get out, I’d grabbed the sink and must’ve knocked it into the water. I scooped it up, but of course, it was too late. The phone was dead, and I couldn’t imagine there would be a resurrection.
Though I was aggravated with myself, there was really nothing I could do about it at the moment, so I patted my phone dry and attempted to settle back into the tub. Finding it impossible to relax, I decided to finish my grooming. I shaved every piece of hair from my legs and armpits, and then scrutinized the Brazilian wax job I’d had done yesterday to make sure it looked just right. Catpernicus sat dutifully on the edge of the tub, licking and cleaning his paws. I’d arranged for my neighbor, Mrs. Whitman, who also had a cat, to take him for the weekend. I wondered if perhaps Catpernicus was getting ready for his own date.
Packing my bag was a challenge of its own. I picked out my laciest lingerie, but wasn’t sure what, if anything, I’d be wearing beyond that. Which resulted in overpacking—something to lounge around in, something to go out, jeans and a T-shirt … what if it rained? I imagined the look on Hunter’s face if I showed up with rain gear and two suitcases. The poor man would probably have a heart attack, thinking I was moving in.
Butterflies took up residence in my belly for the rest of the afternoon. We’d texted a few times this week and decided that rather than him picking me up, I’d go to his place right after dropping off Izzy. Hunter lived pretty close to Garrett’s mother’s house. I’d be taking Izzy straight from practice, and I didn’t want her to see the suitcase, so I stashed it in the trunk. I needed to be careful with the example I set, especially now that she was almost sixteen and interested in boys. Teenagers listened to your actions, not what you told them was right or wrong.
On my way to pick up Izzy, I stopped by Verizon and got a new, ridiculously overpriced iPhone. They weren’t able to save anything from my old phone, so I had no numbers or contacts, and I’d basically be starting from scratch. I didn’t even know the first digit of Hunter’s telephone number.
It was probably best that Izzy had transformed back to a disgruntled teenager and was in a mood when I picked her up from practice. My emotions were already all over the place, and I wasn’t sure it would be wise to discuss boys or her dad. When we pulled up at her grandmother’s house, I double-parked.
“Oh, I almost forgot. I dropped my phone in the bathtub. I don’t even know your number.” I dug my new cell from my jacket pocket. “Can you program it in?”
She took it and typed as she spoke. “When did you take a bath?”
“This afternoon.”
“But you showered this morning. You were in there when I woke up.”
“Um … I was stressed so I tried a new bath bomb.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I lied. “Just some work things were bothering me.”
I walked Izzy to the door, spoke to her grandmother for a minute, and then forced a hug and a kiss. “I’ll call you tomorrow to check in.”
“Are you doing anything this weekend?” she asked.
I smiled, happy to not have to lie. “I plan on spending the weekend in bed.”
* * *
Was it possible to feel your heart bouncing against your rib cage? I wasn’t sure, but that’s what it felt like was going on. Either that or I had a massive case of indigestion. I parked my car in a garage on the same block as Hunter’s place, and everything hit me when I handed the keys to the valet. He asked me what time I would be picking it up.
I swallowed. “Not until Sunday.”
I was really doing this.
Butterflies swarmed in my belly, stronger and stronger with each step I took toward Hunter’s building. I took a deep breath as the doorman greeted me.
“You must be Ms. Rossi?”
It wasn’t the same doorman who had been working the night I’d visited. “Yes. How did you know that?”
He smiled warmly and took off his hat. “Mr. Delucia called earlier and said you would be arriving about now. He was unable to reach you and wanted me to let you know his flight was delayed, and he’ll arrive home about nine.”