Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 129676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
I snatched my face away, looking sideways to avoid him.
He read me like an open book.
What else did he know?
“Speaking of your bed,” he continued, “it is currently being transferred to the guest room down the hall from me. I’ve arranged for your belongings to be sent to my penthouse. A moving company is making its way with them from Brooklyn as we speak.”
I’d stayed in my dodgy Brooklyn flat after graduating from uni. I never thought to find somewhere more permanent in the States.
I’d desperately wanted to move back to England, to the memories of Dad and Elliott, and now that dream seemed further away than ever.
“Actually.” He snapped his fingers. “I had them throw away most of your junk. Hope you don’t mind. Didn’t peg you for a hoarder, Miss Bennett.”
There was no point in protesting. In arguing. In fighting back.
He’d fulfilled his part of the bargain. Now it was my turn.
I waited for him to leave the conference room before pulling out my phone and googling vocal cords.
He was right.
They did look like a vagina.
Gia: SOS.
Cal: When and where?
Gia: Casablancas. An hour.
Dylan: Rain check. Grav is at my mom’s, and Rhy and I finally have time for evening sex. You’ll have to shake the very fabric of time and space to remove my thighs from his ears.
Gia: I SAID SOS.
Dylan: Is it SOS-my-life-is-imploding or SOS-my-GHD-died-and-they-don’t-make-that-model-anymore?
Gia: The former.
Gia: Although the latter technically counts as life-altering too.
Dylan: Ugh. FINE. See you there.
Cal: Me too <3
“So what did you want to tell us?” Cal munched on deep-fried fish fingers at Casablancas in Bryant Park.
She looked adorable in her mustard-colored overalls, only one shoulder strap done, flowery long-sleeved shirt, and red-tipped fringe. “You sounded upset in the text messages.”
“Yeah, I was ready to cut a bitch.” Dylan pulled her long raven hair into a messy bun.
The Super Bowl was playing in the background on giant flat-screen TVs across the restaurant. “Is it your mom? Is she doing okay on the new experimental medicine?”
Calla and Dylan were my best friends. They were true crown straighteners. I’d found them through Tate, who was close with their husbands.
Unlike Tate, both my friends and their husbands were surprisingly sane, not to mention delightful.
Cal’s husband, Row, for instance, was a Michelin-starred chef who opened this New York joint for his wife just so she’d have a place to eat her favorite fish fingers and fries whenever she was in town.
They also offered high-end sushi, though, which was what Dylan and I were eating.
People around us jumped up from their seats and cheered. I guessed someone scored in the game.
I knew nothing about American football. In truth, it had no business being called football at all. They were using their hands mostly.
“No, it’s not about Mum. She is doing fine, though, thank you.” I flashed them a tired smile.
Dr. Stultz told me they were running some cognitive and physical tests before they put her on the drugs and were now waiting for the results. I guessed no news was good news.
“You know you can always ask us to watch over her or keep her company if your workload is too much,” Dylan said.
“I know.” I took a sip of my Cuba libre. “And the same goes for you two. If you ever need me, I’m here.”
“Friendship is not a quid pro quo relationship,” Cal pointed out. “Sometimes you’ll need us more than we’ll need you. You were there when Dylan’s daughter was kidnapped and she went through a panic attack. We’re not keeping track of who is helping who and how much. We just want you to be happy.”
“Thank you.” I smiled.
We tried to flag down a waiter, but the game reached its halftime mark, and all the patrons started ordering at once. It was a bit chaotic, with semi-drunk football fans trying to grab the staff’s attention, before Dylan stood on the leather bench and cupped her mouth. “Someone better come tend to this table, or everyone’s getting fired. Calla Casablancas is in the house.”
Not ten seconds passed, and a harem of waiters arrived with more sushi and more cocktails for us.
I waited for the servers to leave before I opened my mouth again. There was no good way to tell my friends I was soon to be married to the man whose voodoo doll was their last birthday present to me. Especially as I hadn’t even bothered pricking it with needles. I threw it straight into a fire.
“Oh! I forgot to tell you,” Dylan blurted out, her smile lighting up her face. “Rhyland and I found an amazing place on a dude ranch just outside New Haven.” She snatched her phone from the table, scrolling through her gallery to try to find a picture. “It has a stable and a huge space to build Gravity a playground. It’ll be great to go there on weekends.”