Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 83070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Her words from the other day live rent-free in my head. I can’t shake them. I know she meant it sexually, but even then—no one has ever tried to make me happy. Not without stipulations. Not without getting more from me than they’re willing to give.
I’m not quite sure how to process this and I know how to process everything.
Everything but her.
I’ve wanted to call her since the moment she pulled away in that ridiculous little car this morning, beeping the horn as she drove out of sight. There’s something about her voice that makes the list of shit I have to do feel lighter. The day seems less pissy. My life less lonely.
Even though she’s not mine and I’ll never have the chance to make that happen—I know that and accept it—that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy her while it lasts.
“Fuck it,” I say, opening my text app instead of my call log. If that isn’t getting to be the theme of my life lately.
Me: Are you walking okay today?
Her response is immediate, putting a smile on my face.
Carys: Nope. I’m officially hobbling. Courtney asked me what was wrong, and I wasn’t prepared. So I told her I went horseback riding last night.
I laugh, shaking my head.
Me: Well, that’s not too far from the truth since you climbed on my cock without a rubber just before the alarm went off this morning.
Waking up to a naked Carys riding my cock—her tits bouncing while she whispered moans in the soft morning light—will forever be one of my favorite memories.
I unfasten my pants and adjust myself.
Carys: I heard no complaints.
Me: I have no complaints. You’re welcome to do that as often as you like.
Carys: I wish I could do it right now.
Me: You have no fucking idea. What are you up to today?
Carys: Want the truth or for me to make up something super sexy to drive you crazy?
Me: The truth. I’m trying not to think about you doing something super sexy.
Carys: Great because this will be a bucket of cold water for ya. I’m filling out life insurance paperwork. They literally ask you everything under the sun. For example, I don’t know if I’ve ever had my cholesterol checked. I make a point not to know what I weigh. And it wants any doctor’s or dentist’s contact numbers I’ve seen in the last ten years. The only person I can remember who has given me a physical is you.
I blow out a breath and sink back into the cushions.
“End this now before you get too deep,” I say.
Me: Good luck with all of that. I need to go do some paperwork, too. I just wanted to check on you.
Carys: I’m glad you did.
Me: Have a good night.
Carys: Good night, Gannon. Xo
Fuck.
Carys
Wednesday
I hold my phone, swiping through my calls and texts just in case I missed a message from Gannon.
The answer is the same as it’s been all day. I didn’t miss a thing.
I set the phone on the kitchen counter and return to making my grilled cheese with a frown.
“You are Carys Johnson,” I remind myself. “You don’t care if a man calls you. It’s better if they don’t, as a matter of fact. Saves you trouble.”
It’s bad when you roll your eyes at yourself.
Gannon’s trip is the best and worst thing that could’ve happened. The thousand miles separating us makes it clear that our relationship is a real-world Venn diagram. Our individual lives are different, and we simply exist in different worlds. But there’s an overlap where a lot of fun can happen. I need to remember that we live our ninety percent of our lives in separate circles.
The overlap is the anomaly. The exception to the rule.
The best time of my life, so far.
“But it’s Wednesday,” I say, flipping my sandwich and trying to justify reaching out to him. “And Wednesday is the day I work in his office, which means it’s my day to see him. I’m basically entitled to talk to him today. Right?” I nod, agreeing with myself. Well done. “Right.”
I toss my dinner onto a plate, turn off the burner, and then pick up my phone.
“Fuck it.”
Me: I just made a grilled cheese with mayonnaise. Thanks. You’ve ruined me.
Gannon: If that’s the way I’ve ruined you, I failed.
I laugh at his text, wondering if he was already on his phone … or if he was thinking about texting me, too.
The odds are that he was working on his device. I might pretend he’s dying to talk to me, but I know that’s not true. The man is the CEO of a multi-million-dollar company. I’m not at the top of his priority list and I shouldn’t be.
And, really, I’m glad.
It makes things easier. I hate when men get obsessed. Or when I forget reality …
Gannon: How was the office today?