Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
“I can’t blame him. I love a good bath, too.” Brock didn’t respond, and it felt awkward. “Is this okay?” I asked. “My calling, I mean?”
“Yeah, of course. I’m just not sure how to do the friend thing with you. You said bath, and I pictured us in the tub together, you sitting between my legs, resting your head against my chest.”
That sounded amazing. Clearly, I wasn’t sure how to manage this new friend zone either. “I wasn’t even sure I should call. But I’ve been thinking about you guys and wanted to see how you were holding up.”
Brock smiled sadly. “I think about you a lot, too.” He cleared his throat and looked away. “Anyway, what’s new in New York?”
“Same old, same old. There was a rat in my subway car this morning.”
“Jesus Christ, I don’t know how you do it.”
I laughed. “That was a little much, even for me. It was trapped and running from person to person.”
“Did you make a decision on the investor guy from Italy?”
I nodded. “I did. I’m going to accept his offer. I have a call scheduled for tomorrow morning to talk to him about some things, but I don’t think any of them are dealbreakers.”
“So that means you’ll be totally rid of the board of directors that have been giving you such a hard time?”
“Yep. I’m a corporation, so I need to have a board, but it doesn’t need to be outsiders who don’t know anything about my business.”
“That’s good. Though the board did one smart thing.”
“They did?”
“They sent you to Meadowbrook.”
I smiled. “That’s true. I have them to thank for bringing you into my life. And in hindsight, I think I actually needed the mental break. So yeah, I guess they did one good thing.” I paused. “How about you? How are you juggling all your businesses with the baby?”
“I hired someone to cover my shifts at the bar. Terrance was our local sheriff for thirty years. He retired six months ago and was going stir crazy at home. Said he was getting a job or a divorce, so he started yesterday. I think he could be good for the place.”
“Oh, that’s great. That leaves you with only two full-time jobs then—building log cabins and being a dad. Actually, it’s three if you count building your own cabin, too. How’s that going? Your brothers were supposed to start helping you with that, right?”
Brock nodded. “They did. And even though they’ve been working their tails off, I’ve realized it would take forever to finish at the rate I’m going. So this morning, I bit the bullet and put a full-time crew on at my place to help finish up.”
“Oh wow. I thought you wanted to do it all yourself? That was your dream. You’d put every stone on that big fireplace and cut every log.”
“I did, but what I want now takes a backseat to what Patrick needs. This apartment is bursting at the seams already. I want him to have a home.” He shrugged. “I guess dreams change. It’s funny because I don’t even remember why it was so damn important for me to build it myself anymore. Everything seems unimportant now except making things good for my son.”
That stabbed my heart a little, and it must have shown on my face.
“I didn’t mean you were unimportant,” Brock clarified.
“It’s fine. I get it.”
We talked for another half hour, until Patrick woke up and started to fuss. “I have to feed him. You want to hang on while I go make a bottle?”
“No, you go do what you need to do.” I smiled. “It was really good to talk to you. I’m glad everything is going well, Brock.”
He was quiet for a beat, then simply nodded.
“Give me a call when you have time,” I added.
“Actually, I’m going to christen the baby next week. It’s not going to be a big thing. Just my brothers and a few friends, some six-foot heroes and beer at the bar after. But I thought maybe…” He raked a hand through his hair. “I understand if you can’t. I just wanted to put the offer out there.”
“Can I get back to you?”
“Yeah, of course.”
After we hung up, melancholy set in. The silence of my apartment felt really loud, and after another glass of wine, I decided to call it an early night. But ninety minutes after getting into bed, I was still staring up at the ceiling, thinking about something Brock had said. Dreams change. Had mine? I’d been hung up on building an empire for as long as I could remember. What was I reaching for anymore? My company was successful. I owned my apartment. I lived a good life. Maybe I wasn’t Christian Dior or Louis Vuitton, but I had a brand with value, a brand I was proud of. What more would I need to feel like I’d made it? To be able to stop running toward something and enjoy where I was?