Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
“Stella, I’m sorry I’m late.” Walter sat down across from me. “I got held up in traffic.”
“That’s okay.” I smiled and tossed my hair, thinking that Walter looked a little different tonight. Something about the way his tie was a bit loose, his hair a little mussed, like someone’s fingers had run through it. I’d always thought he was handsome in a clean-cut, Ivy League glee club sort of way, but tonight he actually looked kind of—dare I say it—sexy.
But also nervous. That was a good sign, right?
He cleared his throat. “So I want to talk to you about something, Stella, and I’d planned to do it after your birthday, but I’ve never been good at putting things off.”
My pulse picked up. This was it. I tipped back the rest of my wine and tried to sound sultry. “We can talk now if you want. I don’t like putting things off either.”
We were made for each other!
“Okay. Good. See, the thing is …” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “There’s, uh, something I’ve been thinking about for a while now, and it might come as a shock to you, but—”
“Yes!” I burst out. I mean, he was clearly struggling for words, and it wasn’t necessary. I didn’t need the big romantic speech. Why not put him out of his misery?
Except now he was staring at me sort of strangely. “Yes?”
“Yes.” I smiled. Tossed my hair again.
His eyes flicked to the right and back to me. “Yes, what?”
“Yes, I’ll marry you.”
Walter’s eyes widened and he started to cough. He picked up his water glass and chugged from it while I tried to ignore the alarm bell in my head.
“M-marry me?” he stuttered as he set the glass down.
“Well, yes. Isn’t that what you were trying to ask me?”
He blinked. “No. I was trying to break up with you.”
The shoe I’d been dangling fell off my foot. The room tipped. “What?”
“Stella, I—”
“Break up with me?” I froze as the room continued to tilt. This couldn’t be happening.
“Yes. You see …” His eyes dropped to the table. “I’ve met someone else.”
Oh, God.
Oh, no.
My vision clouded, and I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, surely there would be a classic, tasteful diamond in a little box on the table and our server would be pouring champagne as the room applauded.
Didn’t happen.
No ring, no bubbly, no applause.
Just Walter looking guilty and uncomfortable. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I wanted to tell you sooner, but—”
“How long?” I asked, humiliation drenching me like a tsunami. No wonder he’s been acting secretive and strange lately. “How long have you been seeing her?”
“It’s only really been the last few weeks. She’s a new associate professor in the social sciences department, and her office is down the hall from mine.”
A new professor. It was mid-October, which meant he’d probably met her two months ago when the semester started. “I see.”
Walter reached across the table and covered my hand with his. “Believe me, I didn’t want this to happen, and I never expected it to. I’ve really enjoyed our time together, Stella.”
“I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming.”
Walter colored slightly and he let go of my hand. “But I want more. And I think you do, too. Don’t you?”
“What I want is for someone to respect me enough to be honest with me. There’s something you’re not saying. I can see it in your face. More what, Walter?”
“All right.” He looked me in the eye. “I want a physical relationship. Sex.”
My face burned. “You said we could take things slow in that department.”
“Stella, it’s been over a year.”
“Some things take time to develop.”
“I know. And I was willing to wait and see if we developed that kind of chemistry, but we never did. When I met Esther, I felt a powerful attraction immediately. She just … does something to me.”
“Oh, my God.” Humiliated, I buttoned up my blouse and fumbled around beneath the table for my shoe. I knew exactly where this was going. “It’s my fault, right? I’m cold. Unresponsive. Not sexy enough. Go ahead, you can say it.”
“I’m not here to assign blame, Stella. Things between us are simply stagnant. Boring. Beige.”
I couldn’t believe this. I’d spent countless hours listening to him talk about pollinators in peril. He was bored?
And where the fuck was my shoe?
Shoving my chair back, I dropped to my hands and knees and crawled beneath the table, mortified and hurt and praying my skirt hadn’t ridden up high enough to reveal my underwear, which was, of course, boring and beige. When I finally located my pump, I grabbed it and stood up. The shoe was beige too, which made me so mad I felt like throwing it at Walter’s head.
I happened to like beige! It was a classic, understated color and I was a classic, understated person, godammit!