Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
I decide to take the lead in breaking the ice.
“Hi, I don’t think we’ve officially been introduced. I’m Elizabeth,” I say, extending my hand.
He turns to look at me then glances down at my hand, seemingly surprised to find it hanging in midair, aimed in his direction. Either he’s unfamiliar with this common American greeting, or he wasn’t expecting it from me specifically. After an awkward moment, he accepts my handshake before nodding back toward the SUV.
“Mr. Jennings is on a phone call that should wrap up in a few minutes.”
“Oh okay. No worries,” I reply. “He’s quite a busy guy.”
“Very,” Mason confirms.
“Have you worked for him long?” I ask, going down the same line of questioning I did with April. Hopefully I get better results from Mason.
He tips his head in thought for a moment. “Four years next month. I interned for Diomedica when I was finishing grad school at Columbia then decided to stay on after I got my degree.”
“Impressive. So do you enjoy it? Assisting a workaholic like him?”
His brows scrunch together as if he’s unsure of how to respond.
I smile, trying to disarm him. “I get it. It’s not like you can tell me the truth. We barely know each other. Well…” I backstep. “That’s not true. I mean you were at my wedding.”
My joke falls totally flat, and I now decide this guy has the personality of a rock.
“To answer your question, yes,” Mason says curtly. “And even if I didn’t enjoy my work, I would still stay on at Diomedica. I’ve never seen anyone who works harder than Mr. Jennings. He’s incredibly inspiring.”
I hum as if I don’t quite believe him, and he narrows his eyes as if I’ve just slandered his personal hero. Shoot, maybe I have.
“Right now, he’s on a conference call for one of the two non-profits he works with,” Mason tells me with a sharp tongue. “He’s been on the board of directors for Healing Hearts for seven years.”
“Healing Hearts?”
“It’s a charity that helps facilitate care for pediatric cardiology patients who otherwise would fall through the cracks of our healthcare system.”
I must look ashamed, because he eases up as he continues, “Sorry. I just…I think people like Mr. Jennings can get a bad rap from people who don’t really know him.”
“Well, consider me thoroughly educated. Clearly, I was in the wrong.”
Mason clears his throat as the back door of the SUV opens and Walt steps out. My cheeks flush, both because of the conversation he nearly overheard and because of the way he looks. I’m slightly embarrassed to find him so attractive, as if his looks shouldn’t factor into our businesslike arrangement. It’s not like I can help it. He reminds me of an old Hollywood actor with the slight wave to his short hair and his sharp cheekbones. His jaw is so defined, and I think he’d have an expressive smile if he ever cared to show it to me.
He’s wearing the same camel coat from yesterday layered over a fitted dark gray suit. Today, there’s no tie, just a crisp white shirt.
I watch him as he pushes up his coat sleeve so he can check the time on his watch.
“I expect your realtor to be here any minute. I don’t have long.”
It hits me how much he’s gone out of his way to be here for this appointment. I know Diomedica’s office is located in Lower Manhattan, so it was quite a trek for him to make it all the way up to Inwood.
I look down at my grandmother’s old watch to find that Lisa is officially one minute late and counting.
“She was on time yesterday,” I say with a tight smile.
Neither of them replies, and then the three of us continue to wait in silence. Walt’s standing a few feet away from me, angled so I can watch his profile as he glances down at his phone. He’s firing off an email or text message, and I watch his fingers fly, wondering who he’s talking to. It’s odd being in his presence like this. I realize, for the first time, how much he intimidates me. It’s not new. The tight ball of anxiety in the pit of my stomach was there yesterday too, but I assumed it was because of the wedding, not him.
He’s definitely intense. I can tell he’s someone who throws the entire weight of his attention at something when he cares about it. I’ll bet most of the time that attention is pinned on work, but maybe it wanders every now and then. Surely, he’s had a girlfriend before…someone he’s cared about.
His fingers stop moving, and it takes me a moment to realize he’s glanced over to catch me watching him. I jerk my gaze to the left, narrowing my eyes down the block as if I’m looking for Lisa. My cheeks are ablaze, and there’s no doubt he notices.