Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“You didn’t call me when you landed,” he scolds, and my chest tightens at his voice.
“I figured I would call you when I got home and unpacked.” Even though I don’t want to unpack my bag nor do I want to be here.
“I thought we discussed this,” he says, and I hear my phone ringing and see he’s trying to FaceTime me. I press the connect button. “Hey, Sweetheart.” The smile on his face is everything, and I have to blink away the tears that are threatening to come.
“Hey, Cowboy.” I put the bag down in my closet before walking over to the bed and lying down on it.
“You didn’t call me,” he reminds me as I lay my head on the pillow he used and I smell him, making me feel a bit better, but then I miss him a bit more. “We discussed this and said we were going to work on communication,” he starts, “and this meant you would call me at your every move.”
I laugh. “That wasn’t the discussion at all. There wasn’t even a discussion; it was more along the lines of you call me when you get in.”
“And you said yes, so that means we discussed it,” he explains, and I see he’s in his office at the bar.
“I thought you were busy. You said you were behind on your paperwork since you didn’t work the whole time I was there.”
“I got most of it done.” He looks around. “I just have to take inventory, but I can do that after.”
“I miss you.” The words come out before I can stop them.
“I miss you too, Sweetheart.” Even though he says the words, I would give anything for him to be here and give me a hug. “I told you to stay.”
“I can’t just stay, Gabriel. I have an in-person meeting tomorrow,” I remind him, “and in person means I have to show up and not Zoom it in.”
“Okay, but then when are you free?” he asks me.
“I have to check, but I know that I have to call my doctor,” I remind him, “and get an appointment.”
“Okay, why don’t you go do that”—he leans into the phone—“and I’ll go take inventory.”
“I’m going to have to take a nap,” I tell him, “and then I’ll do all the things.”
“Okay, Sweetheart, call me when you wake up.”
“I will,” I mumble.
“And when I say call me when you wake up, it’s not after you get up and go to the bathroom and get a snack.” He doesn’t hang up, and I roll my eyes at him. “It’s like when you open your eyes.”
“You’re annoying,” I point out. “Were you this annoying when we met?” I don’t wait for him to answer. “I don’t think so, or else I would have never slept with you.”
“Sweetheart,” he coos softly, “the only thing I was thinking about the day we met was trying to make sure I got your number before you left.” He taps the desk. “Which I didn’t do.”
“Well, we slept together instead,” I remind him, “so you got very lucky.”
“Luckier if you would still be here,” he mumbles. “Go nap and tell my girl I miss her.”
“Or boy,” I constantly have to tell him. “It’s going to be a boy at this point.”
“Nah, I feel it in my bones.” He smiles. “A girl as beautiful as her momma.”
“Or a boy as handsome as his dad.” I smile, thinking about our son. “You guys can have matching cowboy hats.”
“Yeah, we can…” He trails off. “Go sleep.”
“Okay, Cowboy.” I bring the phone to my lips, giving him a kiss. “I’ll call you the minute my eyes open.”
“Thank you,” he says and hangs up the phone, putting it on the pillow he usually uses. I get up and take off my sweater and pants, going to grab something to wear when I remember I stole two of his T-shirts. I open my bag, pulling out the white T-shirt he wore this morning when he got out of bed to drive Colson to school. The minute he got back, he joined me in bed and the T-shirt was tossed to the side on top of the clothes, so I snuck it in my bag when I was packing. I take it out and smell him as I put it on and walk back to bed, sliding under the covers and smelling him all around me.
My thirty-minute nap ends up being two hours long, and when I open my eyes, I’m sad when I remember that I’m home and I’m home alone. I get up calling Gabriel, who is in the middle of his shift at the bar. We speak for five minutes as I get my sneakers on and head out to grab myself something to eat and get fresh air. The minute I walk down the steps and to the corner, it dawns on me that everything I used to love about the city, I now don’t. I don’t like the crowd of people on every corner. I don’t like the honking every second. I don’t like the number of sirens that just blare in the distance. I look up at the sky, not seeing one fucking star.