Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
When the coffee was made, I poured myself a cup and wandered out to the living room, which is where I discovered JJ asleep on the couch, fully dressed, with a wrinkled, empty bag of potato chips on his stomach, crumbs spilling out onto the floor.
Frowning, I set my cup on the coffee table and went to the front hall closet to grab my hand-held vacuum cleaner. When I turned it on to clean up the mess, JJ jumped. “Bianca, what the hell?”
“You got chips all over the floor,” I complained over the noise.
“So you have to clean it up now? It’s the middle of the night.”
“It is not. It’s after seven.” I turned off the vacuum. “And why are you sleeping out here?”
“I don’t know. I came home and got hungry. I wanted a snack.” He sat up and ran a hand through his hair, which was totally matted on one side and spiky on the other. “I must have fallen asleep.”
I put the vacuum away and threw the chip bag in the garbage before going back to the living room and opening the blinds.
JJ moaned at the light. “What are you doing here anyway? I thought you got married.”
“I did. We’re . . . having some issues.” I picked up my coffee and sat in the wide-backed chair opposite the couch, tucking my legs beneath me.
“What issues?”
“None of your business.”
“Is he annoying or something? The girl I’m dating is so fucking annoying.”
“No, he’s not annoying.”
“You’re not moving back in, are you?” He looked scared. “I don’t have anywhere to go.”
“Relax. You can stay for now.”
He looked relieved. “Thanks.”
I glanced around. “It actually looks like you’ve kept the place pretty neat.”
“Oh that,” he said, yawning. “Yeah, Mom comes over once a week and cleans.”
My jaw dropped. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No. She does laundry and grocery shops too.”
I rolled my eyes. “That is ridiculous. You are a grown man, JJ.”
“I didn’t ask her to, Bianca. She insists. I think she’s afraid you’ll kick me out and I’ll have to move back in with her and Dad.”
“Well, you need to start looking for a place,” I told him. “It’s time for you to stop acting like a kid and get your shit together.”
“Okay, okay,” he said, looking injured. “Jeez. It’s too early for this kind of abuse.”
“Then go to bed.”
“I’m going.” He stood up and lumbered toward my old bedroom. “I liked you better when you were married.”
I gave him the finger and took another sip of coffee.
Men.
I hid out in my old condo all day, even though I was dying to know how things were going at the Center Avenue house. Part of me wanted to just show up there and get to work, distract myself with good, old-fashioned manual labor and the challenge of a new creative project, but I knew I’d burst into tears the moment I saw Enzo. Ugly crying wasn’t something I wanted to do in front of Griffin and Cole. Or in front of Enzo, for that matter. Bad enough he’d seen me fall to pieces last night.
Instead, I holed up in my office, cleaning out my desk, dusting off all the books and photos and knick-knacks on my shelves, then curling up with a book. But every time I thought about Enzo, my eyes filled. I went through an entire box of tissues and kept having to reread the same pages because I couldn’t lose myself in the story. A thousand times, I checked my phone to see if he’d called or texted, but was disappointed every time. Then I’d get mad at myself for wanting him to reach out—it wouldn’t help. A clean break was best.
But it fucking hurt.
By seven o’clock, I’d given up on reading and was balled up under a blanket on the couch watching a Lifetime movie.
My brother came into the living room and blocked the screen. “Hey. Want to order a pizza for dinner or something?”
“Sure. You’re not going out?”
“I might go out later.” He looked at me closely, probably noticing my bloodshot eyes and puffy face. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Just stuff.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay.” He turned around and walked away, leaving me staring after him.
Seriously. Only a brother would abandon a conversation like that.
Getting up off the couch, I followed him to the kitchen and took a bottle of wine from the rack on my counter. “Want a glass?”
“Nah.” He pulled a beer from the fridge and popped off the cap.
“So tell me about your new girlfriend,” I said, pouring a generous amount of pinot noir into a glass. “Do I know her?”
“She’s not my girlfriend. We’ve only been dating for a few weeks.”
“What’s her name?”
“Reina.”
I looked up at him in disbelief. “Reina?”
“Yeah.” He leaned back against the counter and pulled out his phone. “What do you want on your pizza?”