Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Laird asks, “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing really,” she replies, still laughing. “Shane and I were talking about photography.” She’s not lying.
“Sounds like a riot,” he says, scooping more food onto his plate.
Setting my plate on the coffee table, I pull my phone from my pocket and tap to light up the screen to show her.
The smile ceases to exist as awe sets in. Her eyes go from the screen to mine, and she asks, “Did you take that?”
“Yeah.” I turned my phone back to look at it again. I’ve stared at it more than would be considered healthy, and I never get enough. “I was holding her, fascinated by the gentle slope of her neck, the hair that tumbled over it, and her back bare and calling to me. I’ve kissed her there, right at the curve, that freckle my North Star in the middle of the night.” I blink, then realize I’ve revealed every thought I’ve had staring at this photo. “Just took it because I liked it.”
I took it because my wife is a goddamn goddess, and I needed something of her with me. If only I could tell her the full story. If only I could tell them the truth—that I’m married, and even though it was a mistake, I’m not in a rush to get a divorce.
When Poppy smiles this time, I know she sees right through me playing it off like it’s nothing. It’s fucking everything to me, and now it was even longer until I see her and my North Star again.
“That’s got to be one of the most romantic things I’ve ever heard, and my husband is a swoony guy.” She tries to sit forward but looks trapped in the cushions of the couch.
I move around the table, taking her by both hands to help her up. When she’s standing, she says, “Thank you for sharing with me. I can’t wait to meet her.” Nodding, I do feel lighter and better for talking to her. Before she walks away, she whispers, “I hope that one day you tell her everything you just said. That’s the kind of stuff girls dream of hearing.”
My phone buzzes with a message, but it’s not from Cat. Dallas Jenny. I delete her message offering to drive to Austin to hook up like we did last year and block her number altogether.
There’s only one person I want to hear from, so I go back to my bedroom and call her. As I’m standing at the window, the phone rings once, twice, and then I hear, “Hello?” mixed with laughter in the background.
“Hey, babe, I’ve been thinking about you.”
“I’ve been thinking about you, too, babe.” I grin, hearing Cat call me that. I know a part of her doesn’t feel natural saying it, but the other part takes ownership like I was hers to begin with. Maybe I always have been. According to California, I was. “I can’t really hear that well. I’m in a restaurant with Luna.”
“Early day? Everything okay?”
“Yeah, we can talk about it when you return.” There’s a shuffle of noise on the other end, and she says, “I need to go outside to talk. I can barely hear you.”
Staring out the window onto the water below, I say, “It’s okay. Have fun with your friend. I was just calling to let you know that you have freckles—”
“Did you just say I have wrinkles?” she shouts to overcome the noise in the background.
Fuck. “No, that’s not what I said. We’ll catch up tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t hear you.”
I sigh. I was ready to talk about how I’ve been feeling about her, but now is not the time. “Don’t be, Cat. Have a good night.”
“Break a leg, but not yours, okay?” She’s going to run that one into the ground, yet I’m not bothered by it because she makes me smile every time.
“I won’t. Talk soon.”
I lie down on the bed with a stomach full of food, hoping to get a nap in before we have to leave for the stadium. But I can’t stop thinking about the conversation I had with Poppy.
She’s here for Laird. Maybe I should bring Cat with me next time. I pull up the schedule once more and scroll to see where we play next week. Grinning, I say, “Perfect.”
The next thing to figure out is how I’m going to break it to the band that I’m bringing my wife on tour next week.
It kind of changes everything once it’s out in the open.
First things first, though. Ask Cat to join me in Seattle.
16
Cate
As soon as I shut the door, I let the tears fall that I’d been holding back for the past hour. Telling patients their health hasn’t gotten better is awful. Some retirees come to me with acceptance of their fates. They don’t deny their age or the process of dying. Some even welcome the end so they can join their loved ones again.