Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
“Cool shoes,” he says to a guy passing us.
I rub my lips together to restrain my grin.
The guy with scuffed, ordinary shoes glances down at said shoes before giving Zach a half grin. “Thanks, man.”
When the guy is out of earshot, I nudge Zach's arm. “You’re a natural.”
He grins, keeping his gaze in front of us.
“Were you really having a hankering for ice cream? Feeling like my birthday couldn’t end with pizza and a great gift? Or is this spur of the moment outing for a different reason? If you’re having second thoughts about … what you did for me …” I can’t say marriage. It’s still too weird.
Zachary Hays is my husband. Nope. It will never feel real, probably because feelings aren’t supposed to be part of the deal.
He finds a bench by the bus stop and takes a seat just as we say goodbye to the last rays of daylight. I sit on the other side, facing the opposite direction.
“A few days before she died, Suzanne asked me for a favor,” he says, keeping his gaze on the street while I focus on keeping up with my melting ice cream.
“What’s that?”
“You’re not going to like it, even though you should like it. But you’re stubborn, so you’ll fight it.”
My head snaps to the side, eyes squinted. “I’m not stubborn.”
A chuckle vibrates from his chest as he licks his ice cream. “You can’t even say it without using a stubborn tone.”
I clear my throat and frown, oblivious to whatever tone he thinks I used. “What am I not going to like?”
“Help. You don’t like help, and that was Suzanne’s request.”
“Was it her idea for you to marry me?” My tone is one of shock and dismay … in case he doesn’t catch it.
“No. Well, not directly. She asked me to use some of her life insurance to pay off your bills.”
“Bills? What bills?”
His tongue swipes along his upper lip as he glances in my direction. “All of them.”
“All of them?” Parroting him is my weak attempt at making sense of this, buying time for my brain to process what he really means.
“Student loans. Medical bills. I don’t know if you have credit card bills, but—”
“I don’t,” I mumble. “You’re not using her life insurance money to pay my bills.”
“She adored you. And there really isn’t a dollar amount I can put on how much you enhanced her quality of life over the summer. So let me do this because it’s what she wanted … because it’s what I want to do.”
This is ridiculous. I didn’t do anything that special. Suzie did more for me than I ever did for her. I should be paying him back for hiring me.
“I really think letting me live with you and … the other part you’ve done … is enough.”
Again, he chuckles. “Other part? You mean the marriage?”
Holding my ice cream cone at my mouth, I return a tiny nod.
He sighs. “She really wanted this for you,” he murmurs.
“Zach, it’s … it’s close to a hundred thousand dollars. That’s too much.”
“It’s not.”
“Well, it is to me!” The regret is instant. Why did I snap at him? For being too generous?
His brows inche up his forehead as he eyes me.
I deflate, averting my gaze to the glitching neon Closed sign in the yarn store window. “For years … I watched my mom give away pieces of herself for rent, for food, drugs, and alcohol. She wasn’t a street-corner prostitute, but there was a bartering system. Some men stuck around for days … maybe weeks. Most stayed less than twenty-four hours, but she always got something in return. Even the men who left bruises on her body, gave her something. One guy busted open her lip, then he handed me a hundred-dollar bill before leaving the apartment. He said, ‘Go buy your mom some ice for her face and grab yourself dinner while you’re at it, sweetheart.’”
Zach remains silent, allowing my focus to remain split between the past and that glitchy sign. “If I dig deep, beyond all the hideous things she’s said and done, I suppose I have to give her credit for teaching me a few survival tricks.”
“Like letting people help you when they offer?”
My head eases side to side. He has no idea that I’ve had very few people offer his kind of help. Well, nobody has ever offered his kind of help. “Like offering my ex-boyfriend anything in exchange for a shower at his apartment.”
“Anything?” Zach murmurs before clearing his throat.
Answering with a slow nod, I exhale a long breath. “Mind games. I convinced myself it was a small price to pay for something I needed. He was my boyfriend. I’m not a prude. So I took it up the backside, showered, and managed to get to work only fifteen minutes late.” Risking a quick glance at him, I shrug.