Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 53238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 266(@200wpm)___ 213(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 266(@200wpm)___ 213(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
“The girls made me become a Swiftie. It’s all we listen to in the car.”
“Same.” I take off my seat belt and lean forward to slide out of my coat. “There are mornings where we just sing the entire drive to school instead of talking.”
He selects a Taylor Swift playlist from his screen and turns the volume down so we can hear it but still talk.
“I spilled my guts about my ex, so what’s the story with yours? Other than him being a massive douchebag?”
Discomfort stabs me in the gut, but I swallow it. “I was an idiot who trusted a man I’d only been with for ten months. He meant more to me than I meant to him and I got burned. That’s about it.”
“Did he have a job when you met him?”
“He worked for a venture capital firm. He made good money but lost it all by going all in on his business idea.”
“It sucks that he took you down with him.”
I shrug and look away. “It was my own fault. There’s a reason why I didn’t tell my family and friends about cosigning those loans. I knew it was dumb, but I thought we were in love.”
“Do you still love him?”
I’m caught so off guard by the question that my laugh comes out as a little snort. “Absolutely not. I’d punch him in the dick if I saw him on the street.”
“If we see him in Ann Arbor, I’ll give you an assist. I’ll hold on to him so you can wind up hard for that punch. Maybe follow up with a nice kick.”
“I appreciate it.”
It’s the first time anything related to Tyler has amused me. Usually I just feel bitter and angry.
I take out my list of stuff about me and read it, Carter learning that I love standing outside when it’s snowing and reading sci-fi romance novels and I hate peas.
When he passes me his list, it’s full of little details about him that make me smile.
“Your top three favorite foods are Cinnamon Toast Crunch, Cocoa Puffs and Honeycomb? I thought those were for the girls.”
“I mean, they eat some, too. But I can take down about half a box of cereal on a cheat day.”
“Okay, so cereal is just a treat for you?”
“Unfortunately. It’s not that I love grilled chicken that much; it’s just that it’s good for me and I make a living with my body.”
“That sounds dirty.”
He grins. “Yeah, it does.”
We talk for the entire drive to our destination, and the tension between us from last night is forgotten. When Carter pulls up to a massive lakefront home with a modern design, I gape at him.
“Here? Is this like a bed-and-breakfast with tons of rooms?”
He makes a face. “Fuck no. This whole place is ours for the weekend.”
“No way! This is beautiful.”
“Can’t take my fake wife to Motel 6 for our fake honeymoon, can I?”
“I mean, you could. But I’m glad you went a different direction.”
When we walk into the sprawling home, I’m like an awestruck kid in a candy store. The main area is an open two stories with a gorgeous stone fireplace surround and a modern stainless kitchen. The entire back wall of the home is made of windows to maximize views of the sparkling water.
“You can pick your room first,” Carter says as he sets both our bags down.
Separate bedrooms. What a relief. I don’t have to smell his soap on my bedsheets or worry about accidentally rolling into him for the next two nights.
It should be a relief. But it’s kind of not.
“What is he doing?” I mumble to myself as Carter carries a huge satin silver pothos plant out of the Ann Arbor store we were just browsing in.
The boutique is next door to the restaurant where we had a late Saturday breakfast and I saw the beautiful plant behind the register. I admired it and told Carter a plant like that would easily go for several hundred dollars.
“Did you steal that?” I say when he opens the door to the back seat and sets the plant on the floor.
He scoffs. “No, I didn’t steal it. I bought it.”
We were on our way out to the car when he said he needed to run back in and use the bathroom. Clearly, he was actually going back for the plant.
“You bought it?” I ask as he gets into the driver’s seat.
“You wanted it, right?”
It takes me a couple of seconds to respond. “Yes, I love it. But it wasn’t for sale.”
“I asked the store owner how much she wanted for it, so it was for sale.”
My stomach does a full somersault. Plants are my love language. My apartment is a mini jungle.
“Thank you.”
The emotion in my voice gives away how unusual it is for me to get a thoughtful gift from a man. Tyler once took a fifty from his wallet and gave it to me on my birthday, saying he hadn’t had time to shop for anything.