Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Now we’re in Brooklyn for the launch. Becka, Jensen, and I run all over the warehouse, helping people with their orders and talking up the use of fabrics, the simple designs, and the custom features on the app. We’re working it for our girl Bryn, and I know she appreciates us being here.
As I busily tend to the customers, I notice through the crowd that Christos stands with his girlfriend beside him. The woman has her hand on his back, but he doesn’t have his hand on hers. Interesting.
I feel flushed when a thought of dating Ian publicly hits me. What would that be like? Instead of dwelling on the topic, I seek out another customer to distract myself.
“I saw these when they were just drawings. I can touch them now,” Becka whispers in amazement as she comes up to my side.
“Better yet, you can wear them.” I wink.
We share a grin, my chest swelling with pride for Bryn. She created her vision from scratch, using determination and hard work. Her success encourages me to chase after my dream.
And what about your sexy Workaholic, Sara? What are you going to do about that?
Shut up, slut. You just want more of that D, I grumble to myself.
“Sara,” Jensen says, motioning to a jumpsuit that is starting to fall from its display.
“I’ll get it.” I look around. I can’t find Bryn anywhere, but it doesn’t matter. I’m here to help and I’m glad that I know exactly what my job is tonight. To be sure nobody leaves without placing an order. Or a thousand.
“Bryn stepped out with Christos,” Becka says.
I glance at the doors—but though Bryn and Christos are outside, business keeps going at a fast rate.
I even end up ordering myself an outfit. Workaholic will love this! I think as I go for something sexy that won’t break my bank, a tiny gold sequin dress that will show off my long, toned legs.
I don’t know what I will wear it for, or when, but I know it’s for stupid sexy him.
It’s a little formal but a lot hot. I fantasize about wearing it for Ian on a night in. I could pad around barefoot in this in his hot-ass townhome. Pantyless and ready to get nailed.
Sara, really, you don’t even know if you’ll say yes to dating!
Or do I?
Ugh. I hate to think that both Ian and I already know my answer.
* * *
Hours later, Bryn is still nowhere to be seen. I spot Christos across the room, checking on everyone and making sure the iPads are working. His girlfriend is by the door with his brother and she seems to have been crying.
I march up to him and ask, “Where’s Bryn?”
“She needed to be alone. I’m staying until the guests leave.”
I purse my lips and shoot him another dark look, then spin around and stomp away. I want to punch him for hurting Bryn, but I slow my steps and consider the expression on his face. He looked, and sounded, miserable. For the first time, I suspect he’s as messed up about things as she is.
I text Bryn to give her an update. For her to leave the way she did, something must have gone really wrong. I ask her if she’s okay.
I’m okay, she texts back.
I know she’s not.
But this isn’t the moment to discuss it. We can do that later. Right now I want things to run smoothly.
Becka is on her fourth glass of champagne, and she’s acting as bubbly as the alcohol she’s imbibing. “He loves her. Why is he marrying that bimbo?” She signals to Miranda, who looks restless as she leaves with Christos’s brother.
“I don’t know. Responsibility, I guess.”
She shrugs and lets out a small hiccup.
I decide I’m going to have to carry both of our weight the rest of the evening and leave her to get back to work.
When the last guest leaves and Jensen bids us good night, Christos closes shop. “Do you want a ride?” he asks us.
We both shake our heads. “No, thanks, and we don’t want you near Bryn, either.” I smile acidly and walk away, aware of him laughing sardonically, almost sounding frustrated, behind us.
We’re not yet around the curb when we see him hop into a black car. “Where’s he going in such a rush?” Becka asks.
“I don’t know.” I sigh.
“I can’t feel my toes. I’m exhausted.”
“You’re drunk, momma,” I tell her fondly, and she giggles.
I groan and tell her how much I want a nice, hot bath when we get home as I drag her to the train. Thinking of baths makes me think of Ian, and I let myself fantasize about taking a bath with him someday. I begin to ache.
The look Christos had when he mentioned Bryn pops back in my head, and suddenly I’m aching in places other than between my legs.