Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 84000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“We’re covering all bases.” Byron lifts his other hand to reveal a full-sized chess set. “And whether it’s coffee or whisky, I’m going to beat you at chess.”
I glance at my watch. Eight sharp. I’d forgotten Byron said he was coming over. At least he’s not insisting we go running.
I groan and turn, padding down the hallway, Byron and Leo following me. I just need some solitude this weekend. Some time to myself so I can be miserable. “I have things to do.”
“Like what?” Leo asks.
“Like… work,” I reply.
“You weren’t going to work,” Byron says. “And now we’re here, so you can’t. Do you want to go through the schedule now or after you’ve put your ass in the shower?”
“Schedule?” I ask.
“The schedule of events,” Byron says. “We start the day with whisky and chess—”
“Coffee and chess,” Leo corrects.
“Both? Maybe a dash of whisky in my coffee will help my head,” I say, slumping down on the sofa by the fireplace. I barely drink. I never day drink, but here I am thinking about starting the day with whisky. “Scratch that,” I say. “Coffee and chess.”
“Then in about two hours, Bennett and Fisher are coming by with games,” Byron says as he settles into the chair opposite me, Leo in the chair next to him. “We will all be equally shit at them as none of us have ever played video games—”
“Sorry, but tell me again why my house has become a hangout for grown men trying to relive the teenage years they never had?”
“Because we’re keeping you company,” Leo says. “Then this afternoon, we’re going out.”
“Guys, I’m fine,” I say. “You can stay for coffee, but then…”
“Then what?” Byron asks.
“Then I’ll get on with the day,” I say. “I can handle anything life throws at me. I’ve got a track record.”
“We know,” Leo says. “But the fact is, you don’t have to do it alone. We’re here. And it’s not like we can solve the problem, but we can talk, not talk, offer perspective, keep quiet, come up with a plan to win her back, or talk shit about her. Whatever you want to do, we’re here, right by your side. Just like you’re right by our sides whenever the shit hits the fan for any of us. Believe it or not, it’s a two-way street, Worth. You’ve just had a road closure up for a long time. We’re here with bulldozers, and we’re completely ignoring the No Entry signs.”
“What Leo’s trying to say,” Byron says. “With more metaphors than is good for anyone at this time in the morning, is that we know you’re not good at receiving help. We’re here to make it easy for you.”
“That,” Leo says.
I sigh in resignation. “Give me a coffee.” I lean forward and pull a cup from the holder. Byron slides the chessboard onto the coffee table between us.
New York is colder than usual. I pull the collar up on my coat and push my hands into the pockets.
“I don’t understand why you won’t tell me where we’re going,” I say to the five men flanking me. This is starting to feel like an extremely low-key kidnapping. “I also don’t understand why we’re walking.”
“The sun is shining. The sky is blue. It’s good for your mental health to be outside. I read it somewhere,” Bennett says.
“We’re here,” Byron says, looking up at a storefront. In gold lettering against a black background reads House of Flowers.
My heart drops to the sidewalk. They can’t be thinking I should order flowers for Sophia. I know that’s not what she’d want. She didn’t walk away with a skip in her step. Sending her flowers would just be tortuous for both of us.
“I’m not doing that,” I say. “I’m not sending her flowers.”
Fisher pats me on the back. “We’re not sending flowers.” He nods toward the shop. “Let’s go in.”
The shop has that very distinct smell all florists have—pleasant dampness. It’s fresh and there’s color everywhere.
“Is someone buying me flowers?”
Jack goes up to the counter and speaks to the assistant. We’re escorted to the back, where there’s a small room with a heavy table filled with foliage and stools either side of it.
What the fuck are we doing here?
“Take a seat, gentlemen.” A woman about the same age as my mom, with tight red curls and a round, smiling face, greets us. “My name is Rose. We’ll come around and get your coffee orders when you’re seated, then we can get started.”
I glance between my friends, but all of them avoid my gaze.
“Can’t wait,” Leo says, as if trying to match the smiling woman’s energy.
Bennett is the first to sit and I take the stool next to him.
“We’ve put some materials on the counter in front of you, but there’s plenty more around the room. Use what you like.” Rose points to the worktables set up against the walls, piled with green blocks of stuff florists use to stick flowers into, vases, wreaths, and greenery. “While we’re taking your coffee orders, pick out a wreath size you think you’ll want to work with.” Rose smooths her green apron before leaving us.