Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Me:
I stand in the sunlight, letting the morning rays warm my skin. My mom used to do this, and I remember thinking it was strange.
“It’s just the sun, Mama. Why do you close your eyes like you love it?”
“Because I do, sweet girl. It makes me feel warm—like a cuddle from the sky.”
“I like that.”
“Never take the sunshine for granted. It’s a little gift from God. A kiss from heaven.”
I grin, my face to the sky, and accept my kiss from heaven. In a way, it feels like a stamp of approval of my new journey in life, and of my new friends. Mom would love that the girls are texting me. She always was a girl’s girl.
I’ve never had friends like this before, and I’m not quite sure how it works. But I don’t think I’m going to hate it.
By the looks of it, my life in Sugar Creek won’t resemble the life I’ve imagined there before. It’s a one-eighty from my expectations in nearly every sense.
Has it always been this way, and I never saw it for what it was?
Me: Thank you all for coming to the wedding and bachelorette party. It means a lot to me. I’ll send a proper thank-you when I get back and settled.
Astrid: Don’t waste your time on us. We had fun.
Gianna: Yeah. Spend your time riding that cowboy. Yeehaw!
Me: I have stories …
Gianna: You and I are going to get along just fine.
“You have three towels and one roll of toilet paper, but sixteen bottles of lotion,” Hartley says.
“Your point?”
“I … I don’t know.”
Me: I need to go help Hart. He’s trying to pack up my bathroom and is melting down over my lotion bottle count.
Astrid: He’ll get used to it. Trust me. It took Gray a minute, but he needs more counter space than I do at this point.
Audrey: Text me when you’re back, and we can grab a coffee or something.
Gianna:
Audrey:
Me: xoxoxo
I slide my phone in my pocket and practically skip into my bathroom. Hartley meets me in the doorway with a box of my things.
“That’s done,” he says. “I emptied your drawers into a few boxes, but I didn’t touch your jewelry or books.”
“Smart man.”
He grins. “Want me to do the kitchen?”
“I think I just have a couple of bowls, maybe. Most of that was Clint’s.”
Hartley carries the bathroom box and sets it on my bed. He looks around the room and then turns to me. “Can I ask you something? And I don’t mean anything by it. I’m just curious.”
“I might not answer, but sure.”
“Where’s all your stuff?” he asks. “We’ll be in and out of here in an hour.”
I glance at the empty walls and closet and feel a slight pang in my chest. I’ve never realized how truly empty it was here. Maybe it’s because we’ve already packed so much of it away, but I see what he means.
I’ve always told myself that traveling light was practical. But standing here with Hartley, it feels more like proof that some part of me never expected to stay anywhere long enough to need more.
“I like to keep things light,” I say, smacking his ass as I head for my books. “It makes moving easier. You should be thanking me for that right about now.”
“Guess we won’t need to rent a trailer. Good thing I decided not to pull one of mine up here.” He picks up the bathroom box again. “Put another one on top of this, and I’ll carry them to the truck.”
I pick one up and place it where requested. “Do we need to tape these?”
“Nah. I’ll put my bed cover down, and it’ll be fine. It’s not supposed to rain for a few days.”
“Need me to get a door for you?”
“Nope. I got it.”
I tug my phone out again, find a name, and touch it. It rings twice before she picks up.
“You’d better have a good reason for calling me,” Lolly says. “I send you off with a hunk, and you’re calling your grandma.”
I laugh as a lightness settles over me. “That hunk is carrying stuff from my apartment to his truck.”
“How are things going?”
She says it innocently, like she isn’t prying for information—specifically, information about whether her little plan is working.
I’ve mostly understood what she was doing since the beginning. The way of going about it was suspect, but she had good intentions. And now that I’ve had a little time to breathe—and reflect on the other side of things—what she was doing is crystal clear.
I’m not sure what this will look like with Hartley in a year, but I know that I’m not going to stress about it. I worry too much, and that’s probably why I’m too scared to sit still for long periods of time. It gives me too much time to think.