Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
No one ever said life was fair, but this is bullshit.
I didn’t do any of these things to her, yet I’m the one tasked with breaking her heart all over again.
Staring ahead at the house that has brought me so much misery, I take my time heading in, trying to choose the right words, debating over which bad news to deliver first. But she greets me at the door with a mile-wide smile on her pretty face and her laptop pressed against her chest.
“I just found one-way tickets from Burlington to Manchester for six hundred apiece,” she says, giddy and rising on the balls of her feet before she leans in to kiss me hello. “And Flo just paid me for the last two weeks of work.” She kisses me again, leaving the taste of chocolate on my tongue. “Alternately, we could fly to Morocco for fifty dollars more, but there’s an eight-hour layover.”
“What’s with this?” I ask. “Finally decide to spread your wings?”
“Berlin and I were talking about trips, and she was telling me about all the places she’s been to, and I realized I’m almost thirty years old, and I haven’t even been to Canada or Mexico or Hawaii. I’ve never left this country. And yeah, maybe your method of getting around is a little terrifying because I’m a planner and I prefer to travel with itineraries and hotel reservations, but I think we could do this. A trial, like I said. Maybe two weeks?”
There’s nothing more I want in this world than to travel it with her by my side.
Anneliese places her laptop down before slipping her arms over my shoulders. Her fingers twist the hair at the nape of my neck as she sweetly smiles up at me.
This moment is perfection. Pure bliss. I want to capture it in a bottle. I want to drink it down until I’m stupid drunk. I want to keep that grin on her lips and that sparkle in her eyes for as long as possible because, truth be told, it’s all I’m living for these days.
“You’re in an exceptionally good mood today,” I say, hooking my hands around her waist. “You have fun with Berlin today?”
“Always,” she says.
“You really like her, don’t you?”
“I’ve never clicked with anyone like this before,” Anneliese says. “At least, not since college. We just . . . have a lot in common. We’re similar ages, similar stages in our lives, small-business owners, trying to find our places in this world and have a little fun while we’re at it.”
The words linger, burning on the tip of my tongue.
But I can’t bring myself to tell her.
Not yet.
I’ll break it to her, but not here. Not now.
I need to bask in her oblivious sunlight for a little while longer.
“What’s wrong?” she asks. “You seem kind of . . . I don’t know . . . deflated?”
“Do I?” I deflect her question with a question of my own.
“Is everything okay?” she asks, her expression growing somber as she studies me. “Did you have a good day today?”
“It was productive,” I say, skirting the question as best I can.
I think about the bank statements folded in my back pocket and how I hold the power of ripping apart her newfound friendship and her chance at recovering her life savings all at once.
It hits me now that the choice is clear—I’ll sell the house. I’ll reimburse her for her investment and her time. And when the dust clears, I’ll sweep her off to Europe and show her what it’s really like to live a truly untethered life.
My head throbs, tension threading across my forehead.
“Think I’m going to take some aspirin and lie down,” I say.
“You don’t feel well?”
“Just need to sleep off this headache.” I head to the kitchen.
“You sure nothing’s wrong?” she asks, following me. I find a bottle of Bayer in the medicine cabinet, and by the time I turn around, she’s handing me a bottle of water.
“Don’t worry about me, all right?” I kiss the top of her head before tossing back my aspirin and heading to the sofa to put my feet up and figure out when to break the news to her. At least when I do, I can cushion the bad with some good.
I’m settling into the couch when she climbs next to me, curling under my arm and resting her cheek against my chest.
“I missed you today,” she says. “Mind if I lie with you for a while?”
“Not at all.” I hold her tight, and she exhales, eyes closed, a dreamy, contented smile on her face.
I just want to keep it there a little longer.
TWENTY-NINE
ANNELIESE
kalopsia (n.) the delusion of things being more beautiful than they really are
I’m on my way to run a few errands the next day when Lachlan asks me to drop off a socket wrench set he borrowed from Bryce. Parking outside a white single-story house with a green front door, I double-check the address Lachlan gave me before grabbing the tools and heading up the front walk. My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I manage to slide it out and catch a text from Berlin.