Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 65480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
“If you won’t give me something worth writing…” I tell Ethan, “… then I guess I’ll have to make something up. How about a secret baby or something juicy?” I laugh to let him know I’m joking.
Ethan shakes his head at me, his nostrils flared. “Don’t you dare or you’ll pay for it later.”
“Ooh, I’m shaking.” I throw my hands up in the air. “You have no power over me.” I push my chair out from the table to get a better look at Ethan and Will. “To save time, I’m going to throw questions out there, and whoever answers first, wins.” I chuckle as I remove the tape recorder from my messenger bag and hit record.
I fire questions at them. Ethan and Will attempt to answer at the same time as if they’re actually in a race to win. Sinking into the plush leather chair, I record their answers, eventually moving on to the other players, all while I’m daydreaming about Ethan.
Damn, I’m so screwed.
After the interview ends, I leave the Wells Fargo Center with Will. My head is a little fuzzy from spending the last hour with Mia while she grilled us with questions. How am I supposed to do this every day for the next month? We’re days away from our first playoff game. This is the time to focus, not the time to get myself caught in the middle of what could be a bad situation if I give in to my desires for Mia.
“We should do something nice for Mia,” Will says as he slides behind the wheel of his BMW M3.
He loves this car as much as I did my old Mustang. It was the only car he ever talked about when we were in high school, and playing for the Flyers has made both of our dreams a reality.
I glance over at him. “What did you have in mind?”
“I was thinking we could stop by the grocery store on the way back to her place so we can make her dinner?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “You don’t know how to cook.”
“Maybe not but you do.”
I shake my head, staring out the window as he drives off the lot. “Bastard.”
“Hey, you wanted to stay with my sister. The least you can do is show off those culinary skills while you’re crashing on her couch.”
I forgot to mention that part to Mia. Will had every intention of staying in a hotel until I talked him into asking Mia to let us crash at her apartment. A few weeks in a confined space together should hopefully be enough to convince her that I’m not the asshole she believes, despite the fact we can’t ever be together.
She’s one of my biggest regrets. I can’t change what happened with my brother, but I can try to change things with Mia.
“It wasn’t my idea to stay with her,” I counter, getting comfortable in my seat.
These stupid racing seats are not meant for men who are six foot four and weigh two hundred twenty pounds.
“You asked me to call Mia,” Will says. “I wanted to rent a hotel room for the night, but you had a hard-on to sleep at Mia’s.”
I cross my arms over my chest and sigh. “That’s not how it went down. I only suggested you call her so we could meet up with those girls without having to deal with moving our shit. We were both tired from being on the road. Don’t act like you wanted to bother with any of it.”
Will drives down Broad Street, headed toward Chickie’s & Pete’s, a popular seafood restaurant everyone in Philly loves.
He clenches the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the busy street. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter where we sleep, anyway. Since we’re off tomorrow, you can cook for us tonight. Knowing Mia, she won’t eat unless we fill her fridge with food.”
“She’s always been stubborn.”
“She gets it from our mom,” Will says, making a left off Broad Street.
“Where are we going? The supermarket is in the opposite direction.”
“I’m stopping at the butcher. Mia likes the veal from the Italian place over here.”
“I take it I’m making veal parmesan for dinner.”
He nods. “Mia will love it. She’s too skinny. She needs a decent meal. I think she lives off bags of junk food, tap water, and the free coffee she gets from work. And the Chinese place below her apartment… when she can afford it. She’s too damn proud to ask for a handout, even though I’d give her anything she wants.”
So would I. Anything.
I feel this odd sense of responsibility for Mia. If my circumstances were different ten years ago, I would have taken care of her. I wouldn’t have run away to deal with the mess I’d made.
I glance out the window as we drive through South Philly. “We shouldn’t go out tonight. I still have a hangover.”