Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 81843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
“I’ll assume that’s rhetorical,” I say. “Mimi, I’m back.”
“I heard ya,” she says. “Did you lock up?”
I hold my phone behind me to prevent Jason from hearing and pop my head in her bedroom door. “Yes. I locked up. We’re as snug as a bug in a rug.”
She lifts a brow. “Who are you talking to?”
“No one. If you get up tonight, yell for me, text me, call me, or do whatever techie thing you’re capable of doing. Do not get up by yourself. The landlord didn’t fix the bathroom tile, and I don’t want you falling again. I mean it.”
“Is it a man?” she asks, smiling wickedly.
I laugh. “Yes, actually, it is. I’m going to go to my room and have a conversation. Turn your television up and give me some privacy.”
“That better not be Thomas!” she yells as I close her door.
“Can this day be over yet?” I mumble, finally entering my room. I leave my door cracked to hear if Mimi gets up and then crawl into bed and collapse. I need a shower and to brush my teeth, but I don’t have it in me. “Jason? I’m sorry. Again.”
“Did you talk to Thomas today?”
“Yes.” I smile weakly. “He came by this afternoon to chat with my grandmother.”
“He knows your grandmother?”
I grin. “This conversation is stalling.” I snort. “Stalling. Get it?”
“I’m not in the mood for aviation jokes, Chloe.”
“I’m not in the mood to talk to you either, but here we are.”
He mumbles something that I’m sure I’m better off not hearing.
“Do you need anything else?” I ask. “I’m exhausted and just want to try to get some sleep.”
I close my eyes and imagine Jason calling to say good night instead of asking for files. How would he say good night? Does he like to talk on the phone? Is he the kind of man who would remember to call before bed, or would he get lost in his work and forget?
“Look, you’re going to have to give me something,” he says, softer this time. “Are you all right?”
The genuineness in his voice hits my heart … and causes my stupid tears to well up again.
We are friends. But this? I don’t want him knowing that professionally I’m rocking life, but personally? I’m drowning. And, if I tell him the night’s activities, he’ll never look at me the same way. I’ll be the helpless woman failing at life. I’ll be pitiful. A charity case.
“I’m fine,” I say. “It’s just been a day, and you caught me at the climax.”
He hums. The sound travels to my core and sets it on fire.
I close my eyes. “I’m too tired to care that I just walked into a climax joke.”
“Who were all of those people?”
“My neighbors and Mimi.”
“Those were your neighbors?”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. “Yeah.”
He pauses as if he’s mulling over that information. Finally, he clears his throat and seems to let the non-neighborly neighbor thing go. Thank God. “How is Mimi? You said she’s been sick.”
The kindness in his tone hits me right in the heart. It’s likely because I’m overly emotional tonight—which I hate. But his compassion means a lot.
I swallow a lump in my throat, reminding myself why I don’t open up to Jason about Mimi and my financial situation. I don’t want his pity. But it feels so nice to have someone on my side that I give in.
“She’s not sick, really,” I say. “She just forgets she’s not in her thirties anymore, and her legs give out. She’s fallen a few times recently. I have to sleep with one eye open because I’m scared to death that she’s going to fall in the dark.”
There’s a long pause—an extended, comfortable moment that feels like a hug. I sink into my mattress, my muscles relaxing for the first time all day. My mind is quiet, even if only temporarily, while I listen to him breathe.
“If you need anything, Chloe, you can call me,” he says quietly.
“I appreciate that. Let’s talk tomorrow, okay?”
He sighs. “Okay. On that note, thank you for answering my call. Good night, Chloe.”
“Good night.”
The call ends and I set my phone beside me.
It’s still too early to fall asleep, but I hope lying down translates into some form of beauty rest. Otherwise, I’ll be pacing back and forth across the kitchen. That would result in stress lines and an anxiety attack, for sure.
And God knows I don’t need more of either of those.
The apartment is fairly quiet this time of night, all things considered. An occasional raised voice or screaming television show rattles through the walls. I’m used to the amalgamation of smells—tobacco, curry, varnish. But those seem to be lesser than usual tonight, too.
I close my eyes and let my mind wander to Jason.
What would life be like with someone like that in your corner? Not just as a boss, but as your partner?