Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 71911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
“Yeah, maybe,” I replied, not really meaning it.
“You can’t bullshit me. You know that. You’re going out with me tomorrow. I can’t remember the last time you even went on a date, Brielle. It’s been years. Literally years! What was his name, Jonah or Noah? I don’t remember. Doesn’t matter. You just went out with him twice. It is time to live. Put yourself out there. Have some fun this summer. Hot girl summer!”
I rolled my eyes and stuck the spoonful of ice cream in my mouth. She made it all sound so fun. Didn’t she know how much fun ice cream and binge-watching my favorite TV drama was? Probably not. Clara was my opposite, and she was also the reason we were friends. When she was set on something, she grabbed hold and didn’t let go. For some reason, eight years ago, that something she’d latched on to was me. I had needed family, and she had become just that.
“Okay, I’ll go tomorrow night, but don’t push it. Hot girl summer sounds exhausting and annoying. I like my life, Clara. I don’t need a man. I have Cam.”
Clara sighed dramatically. “Cam is your son. And you’re the best mom I know, but, Brielle, you have got to get a life. Cam is growing up. He’s going to start wanting to do things without you. When that happens, you’re gonna fall apart because you forgot how to be you. Find yourself. You are more than Cam’s mom.”
I opened my mouth to argue that I was aware of that when a loud crash from the hallway outside our apartment got my attention. Standing back up, I walked to the door, not hearing anything Clara was saying. There were voices out there and more banging around.
I debated on the safety of opening the door when a man yelled out, “Not this floor! We are supposed to start at the top!”
My hand wrapped around the doorknob, and I opened the door slowly, peeking out into the rowdy hallway. My neighbors were not loud people. Mrs. Jo lived to the right of us, and she’d be celebrating her seventy-eighth birthday in ten days. I was going to make her a cake, like I always did. Damar and Jim lived across the hallway from me. They worked long hours and were rarely home. I probably wouldn’t see them until Mrs. Jo’s birthday.
Brown eyes with thick, long lashes—which should have made his eyes appear feminine, but somehow did not—locked with mine, and I froze. The door was only halfway open, and Clara’s voice in my ear, calling my name, reminded me she was there.
“Uh, yeah, sorry. There was noise outside in the hallway. Can I call you back?” I replied.
“Noise? What kind of noise? Are you okay? Do I need to call the police?” she asked, her voice growing more panicked by the second.
“No. It’s fine. Looks like maintenance or something. I’ll call you back,” I repeated, then ended the call before she could ask more questions.
My curiosity was stronger than my appreciation for a man with great lashes, I realized, as I moved my gaze from his and took in the rest of the situation. A redheaded man with a matching beard stood, holding a ladder with a scowl on his face.
“Why does it matter which floor we start on? This damn ladder is a bitch to carry up the stairs,” the red-haired man said.
“It matters to the man writing our paycheck. I’ll carry the ladder. But these cans of paint aren’t much lighter,” Brown Eyes replied.
“At least they aren’t fucking bulky,” the man said, dropping the ladder to the ground with a sigh of relief.
“The crew putting down the hardwood flooring and marble tiles is up there now. We should have been there first. Come on,” Brown Eyes said, his voice laced with frustration. He glanced back at me. “Sorry if we disturbed you.”
“I didn’t realize there were updates being done to the building,” I said, thinking that the owner should have sent out a memo to the residents. And who the heck was getting marble tiled flooring?
“Just the penthouse floor at the moment. Once it is finished, the entry, elevators, and outdoor structure will be updated,” he told me.
“Wow,” I muttered, wondering what had brought this on.
Mr. Halston was almost eighty years old. He owned this apartment building along with four others in town, a few service stations, a grocery store or two, and the post office building. He never did updates, but this was a newer building and in the nicest part of town. I had chosen it so that Cam could attend the schools in this area. They were the best I could offer him.
“New owner is turning this building into something real nice. Fancy and shit,” the red-haired guy informed me.