Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 145123 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145123 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 726(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 484(@300wpm)
“Just repeat to yourself that this is temporary, Sam. Because it is. I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but you’re going to be out of there and on your feet before you know it.”
“I know. I do. It just doesn’t feel like it right now.”
God, I feel for her. Her life has been upended by her asshole ex-husband. Not only did he go through some kind of pathetic midlife crisis, but he decided he wanted a “cool life” that didn’t include his wife and two kids. In what felt like a blink of an eye, Todd, the douche, wanted a divorce, and my sister went from being the stay-at-home mom who put her family above everything—including herself—to a woman trying to find her way again, with two kids in tow.
Now, Todd is living in Cincinnati, doing God knows what, and barely sees his boys, and my sister is trying to clean up the disaster he created for her.
I open my mouth to reassure her again, when a shriek and the sound of shattering glass travel undeniably through her door. I wince, and she curses. Loudly.
“Sorry, B. I gotta go. We’ll catch up on what’s going on with you next time.”
“No worries,” I rush to say. I know she’s likely already pulling the phone away from her ear, but I at least want to try in case she can hear me. “Love you.”
She’s hurried and discombobulated, but she still finds the headspace to say it back. “Love you too, sis. To the moon and back.”
I listen for the click on her end and then slowly pull the phone away from my ear. Benji is staring at me with his head cocked in question, and I can’t help but chuckle.
“I don’t know, Benj. I think the people who say dogs are like kids are lying to themselves.”
My conscience is quick to mock me ruthlessly. They’re not the only ones lying to themselves right now…
Instantly, my eyes flit to the screen of my computer, and I scan River’s flaw list before glancing down at the minimized file that reads Accidental Attachment.
I think about Clive and River, and I think about Chase and the fact that whenever I’m in his close proximity, it tends not to end well.
If there’s any hope of getting through edits on this book, I’m going to need to keep my distance from that man. Emails, text messages, and a limited number of phone calls. Anytime he wants to meet in person, I’ll tell him I have the flu or some shit.
But what about when the book actually publishes? You going to come down with a chronic illness that requires years-long isolation?
Considering I have no guarantees that I’ll even live through edits, I’ll cross that bridge if I get to it.
Sunday, May 14th
Chase
A half a pound of pastrami and rye fills the balloon of my stomach, and a balmy sixty-eight degrees fills the pee-smelling air.
What a day to be alive and in New York City.
My Sundays are normally spent wandering aimlessly from the gym to lunch and onward to any number of people-watching locations, and today is no different. By nature, I’m more of a homebody, but when you have a roommate like Glenn, home is not where the heart is, if you know what I’m saying.
I stroll through the southern end of Central Park where I’ve been for the last hour or so and out onto the street at Columbus Circle to walk in the direction of home.
Granted, home is approximately one million blocks away, so I’ll have to hop on the subway at some point, but for now, I’m content to stroll.
An elderly woman with a flowered cap brushes past me on her way into the park and gives me a lift of her chin in acknowledgment. It’s miles above what I normally get from strangers on the street in this city, and for some reason, it makes me smile.
I crane my neck around to watch her retreat, and the pace she’s keeping is entirely impressive for someone her age. I hope I’m still as spry and adventurous as she is when I’m closing out my life’s circle.
With a shake of my head and a jumbo-size grin, I turn back in the direction I’m heading and pick up my pace. People are out and about in droves, both locals and visitors alike, wanting to take advantage of the weather before rain sets in tomorrow.
The thing about spring flowers is that they’re created by showers. Some of those age-old sayings are commonplace because they sound nice, but this one…this one is true.
Thanks to my proximity to Longstrand, I detour from 8th Avenue to make a pass on the building for shits and giggles. As stupid as it sounds, sometimes I take a moment out of my days off just to look at the building and remind myself how hard I worked to get here.