Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
“I’m twenty-four,” she reminds me. “I’m not a virgin, William.”
I lean forward to kiss the center of her forehead. “This discussion ends now, but I want you to know that I trust you can take care of yourself, but if you ever need me, I’m a call away.”
Her arms are wrapped around me before I can get another breath out. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I tell her as I squeeze her.
She steps back to study my face. Her gaze wanders over my features. “You seem a little torn up about something. Is it work or a woman?”
“Both,” I answer honestly.
She briefly glances over her shoulder toward her co-workers again. “I can ditch them, and we can go somewhere and talk. I know you can’t, or won’t, tell me a thing about work, but what about the woman? I’d love to hear about her.”
“I appreciate the offer,” I say because I know my sister, and she’s always willing to listen to anyone’s problems.
“But, you’ll figure it all out on your own the way you always do.”
I smile. “I will.”
She pats my cheek. “Can I offer at least one piece of advice, and then I’ll head back to my table?”
“Offer away.”
“If it’s a choice between work and a woman, and if she’s the woman, William, or could be the one, choose the woman.”
“If she’s the woman?” I repeat the words she put extra emphasis on. “What does that mean?”
“You know what it means.” She slaps my hand lightly. “If you can’t stop thinking about her, and if the world is a little moody and murky unless she’s right in front of you, she’s the woman.”
I pinch her chin. “When did you get so smart?”
She leans closer to whisper in my ear, “The first time I fell in love and had my heart broken.”
I close my eyes at the assault of emotions I feel. Knowing that a guy caused her pain doesn’t sit right with me. “Tell me his name, and I’ll hunt him down.”
She laughs. “I was seventeen when it happened. I’m so over him. I don’t even remember his name.”
“I bet he’s never forgotten yours, Scout.”
Her eyes light up as a smile slides over her lips. “I bet you’re right. I’m pretty unforgettable, and something tells me the woman you can’t stop thinking about is pretty unforgettable, too.”
She’s right about that.
23
William
Sleep eluded me last night, so I did what I always do when I toss and turn for more than an hour. I got out of bed around three a.m., dressed, and hit the ground running.
I wasn’t wearing a suit and sitting in my office in the dead of night plotting my next move with any of my current clients.
Instead, I put on my running gear, which consists of shorts, a T-shirt Bauer left behind when he crashed at my penthouse one night, and the same sneakers I’ve worn during my workouts for years.
True to the saying, New York never sleeps, but its natural roar quiets when darkness falls over the city. The incessant sound of drivers battling each other with their car or truck horns lessens. The pedestrian traffic on the sidewalk thins enough that I can run without fear of mowing someone down, although I still always call out a warning that I’m approaching from behind.
I ran my usual route until I needed a break and ducked into a bodega that is open all hours and owned by a friend. He graciously added a bottle of water to my tab. I promised I’d be back later today to clear that, and then I was on my way again.
Now, as the sun begins its rise over Manhattan, I’m sitting on a bench in Central Park watching three pigeons dance around a dusting of breadcrumbs left by a guy who must have a supply in his jacket pocket because he scattered another handful less than ten feet away which attracted yet another trio of birds toward their morning meal.
“What the fuck are you doing out here at this hour, William?”
I chuckle even before I look to my left and find my brother standing a few feet away. I can’t say I’m surprised. We used to run this route together every morning until my demanding work schedule ended that.
It’s obvious he’s been running, too, but he didn’t bother with a shirt, and his phone is strapped to his bicep.
When Bauer designed his first tattoo when he was fourteen, he asked me to forge the parental consent form. I would have done it, but by the time I met up with him to scribble my dad’s name on the form, my brother was already sporting the ink on his bicep. I asked how he got it done without a signature, but he just shrugged, laughed, and wore long sleeves for months.
“I’m doing the same thing you are,” I nod toward my attire. “I was smart enough to leave my phone at home.”