Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81375 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“If the owners won’t deal with it, please call me. I know local crews from around here that can have it all taken care of. I’ve had to get several trees cut down and cut up around my place after storms, or just because they were old and dead and posing a hazard.”
She’s still reluctant. “I… I don’t want you to have to do that. It just feels wrong, asking you to deal with my problems. I can phone the car company too.”
“Let my lawyer do it. He’s very efficient.”
She laughs shakily. “That… I’d believe. How about if they give me any trouble, I’ll call you, and he can call them back and do his lawyerly stuff?” I hear what she’s not asking. It’s not just that she doesn’t want me to throw my money and connections around for her. It’s that she’s fully capable of taking care of herself.
She’s right. It’s not my business. She’s fully capable. It just drives me insane thinking about leaving her here with no car and at the mercy of the owners of this place. And also, thinking about her getting jerked around by the car rental place makes my blood boil. They’re going to give her a hard time. I can already see it coming.
“Will you call me if you need anything? A ride anywhere or anything else?”
“Sure, but I’ll be fine.” She points at the pizza. “I have that to live off for the next four hundred years.”
She’s got a point.
“Okay. I… I guess I should go.”
I told Adam that I’d call him when I was ready to leave, but he no doubt doubled back because of the storm. He’d wait out there forever, but it’s rude to make him do that. Plus, I don’t want him fucking around with that tree and the broken glass out there either. He’s a fixer, and the longer he looks at it, the more he’ll want to make it right.
“Will you text me when you’re ready to leave? I’ll book us a car. Don’t worry about the timeline. If you didn’t notice, I’m kind of a bum.”
“Are you though? You have your birds and your garden, and you still cook.”
“I’m definitely a bum.”
“Oh my god!” She brightens so visibly that I actually look at the window to the left and turn to stare out the one by the sink. Nope. The sun hasn’t broken through the clouds out there. That burst of light shining in here is all her. “I just had an idea. You should do a cooking show and put it on all the socials, but do it like a masked chef version. Cook in a—”
“Paper bag?”
“In a giant mascot costume.”
“Or like a hockey goalie mask or something,” I add.
“That’s a little too horror movie,” she says with a frown.
“Horror movies are their own vibe.”
She’s struggling to hold in her laughter. “But it’s so much more fun to be happy when you cook.”
“Is it though?”
She nods emphatically, her hair flying all around her face. She doesn’t know how dreamy she looks like this. Unfiltered. Raw. Totally vulnerable. And here she said I was the brave one for dancing in my kitchen. She has no idea.
“Cooking makes me happy,” she admits, but quickly changes the subject when I open my mouth to try to ask her about it. “Uh, can you make it a party bus? I’ve always wanted to go on one of those, but I was never into pub crawls, and none of my friends are married yet, so zero chance.”
“A party bus?”
“Yeah. You’re richer than god, so why not splurge?”
There’s more evidence that she’s back to feeling more like herself. Weirdly enough, it makes me feel like me too. Not the me right now or the me before the accident, but the me I rarely get to be with anyone because they just don’t get me. I have no idea where she gets this rough and amazing humor from. Certainly not her parents, unless they’ve changed.
“Party bus it is then.”
“We’ll go to Ohio in style. We could go in real style if you dressed up and wore some of those clothes that matched the song and dance you did.”
“What makes you think I own anything with safety pins in it?”
“Please,” she scoffs, her face dancing with amusement. “You’ve had years by yourself, and you’re into the music, plus you know all the dances. There’s no way you don’t have something in your wardrobe that you fabbed up to match.”
“I honestly don’t. But I could. Especially if we have a few days before we leave.”
She sighs, but tries to mask it at the last second so I won’t worry. “I’m sure it will be at least three or four days before that mess out there gets sorted out.”
I grab the pizza package she assembled for me and do the notorious phone sign with my fingers to indicate call me.