Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 120165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Radimir slid an omelet onto my plate, and I dug in. It was amazing, light and fluffy and dotted with little pieces of salty goat’s cheese and juicy ham. He’d made coffee, too. “Thank you,” I said, sincerely. “This is...amazing.”
He glanced up from his food and caught my eye, then gave me one of those curt little nods. My chest went tight: he was trying. And God, he looked good, sitting there in his shirt sleeves. But I couldn’t ignore what he was.
Something else I couldn’t ignore: my joints. My hands were stiff, and the pain in my knees had been getting steadily worse over the last week. I could tell I was heading into a major flare-up, which might last a month or two. By the time the wedding came, I wouldn’t be able to walk down the aisle. And even though the whole thing was fake, some stubborn part of me refused to let my illness spoil the big day. Fortunately, there was something I could do, even if it had consequences. I messaged my Rheumatologist and got lucky: she had a cancellation and could see me that afternoon.
Just as we were finishing breakfast, a delivery driver arrived with two packages. They were addressed to Radimir, but he passed them both to me.
I opened the first one, mystified. Inside was a shallow black box and when I opened the top, I was staring at a glossy black rectangle with raised silver letters: B. Hanford. “What is this?” I asked.
“A credit card.”
“I know it’s a credit card. I didn’t sign up for one.”
“It’s on my account. The bills will come to me.” He gestured at the penthouse, himself, everything. “You didn’t choose this. I can at least make sure you’re comfortable.”
I gawped at the card. “What do you think I’m going to spend it on?”
He opened and closed his mouth a few times. “...shoes?”
I showed him my battered sneakers. “You really don’t know me at all, do you? Look, thank you, but...I’ll earn my own money.” I pushed the card across the breakfast bar to him.
He frowned, then sighed and his eyes softened, like I’d impressed him. “Then don’t use it,” he said, pushing the card back to me. “But at least keep it in your purse, in case you change your mind?”
I nodded reluctantly, took the card back and signed it. Then I opened the second package. A beautiful, slender watch, silver with a white leather strap. “Radimir, this is very generous, but I don’t need gifts…”
“It’s not for showing off,” he told me. “It’s for safety.” He grabbed my arm, placed the watch on my wrist and buckled it on. I sat there staring: partly because I was shocked into silence but mostly...the brush of those big fingers against my sensitive skin felt incredible. And there was something about the way he cinched the leather strap tight that was very...possessive.
He pointed to the watch face. “If you’re ever in trouble, turn the bezel a full turn clockwise.”
I blinked. “What happens then?”
“I will come for you.”
My stomach flipped. In trouble. I was a target, now, because I was with him. I looked at the credit card and the watch. My new life. Luxury and danger.
Radimir told me he’d drop me at the bookstore on his way to work, even though I was pretty sure it wasn’t on his way. It was still really early but that was fine: I could get an early start. As we were riding the elevator down, I got a message from Jen. Want to get lunch? Sadie and Luna are in.
And that’s when I realized that Jen and my other friends had no idea I was getting married.
For a moment, I thought about not telling them until it was all done. I could keep a secret for three weeks. But I already felt isolated enough, with Baba in hospital. I was going to have to do this without a family. I couldn’t do it without friends, too. I needed to tell them, even if I had to be economical with the truth. So I typed back Absolutely.
All morning, as I worked in the bookstore, I rehearsed different ways of telling them. But by lunchtime I was no closer to figuring it out. I hung the Closed sign on the door and locked up. I felt guilty closing even for an hour, but it was quiet and I had to close to go to my hospital appointment anyway.
The restaurant was just down the street, a little Italian place we’d been going to for years. It was tucked away in a basement, with tiny tables and low ceilings, but the tagliatelle misto was amazing and it was loud and chaotic enough that my big news wouldn’t draw much attention...I hoped.
The others were already there. Jen was playing a breadstick drum solo on the edge of the table. Luna was almost hidden behind her menu, looking like a baby owl as her big, round glasses peeked over the top. She’s a hospital lab technician and the quietest of us. Sadie, the only one of us in a suit, was hunched forward over the table, trying to hear the phone she had pressed to her ear. She’s an account manager for an advertising firm and her bosses push her harder than can possibly be healthy.