Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 98961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
“Yeah. I…I think so.” I run my hands through my hair, trying to shake off the remnants of the nightmare. I remember it all so vividly, well the latter half of it at least. There was more to it, and I start to get a headache when I think back, trying to recall why the handsome man with the blue eyes and fangs looks so familiar. “I need to get up so I’m not late.”
“I’ll start the coffee and feed Princess.” Easton kisses me and gets out of bed, walking out of the room in just his boxers. My eyes go to his back, looking for a scar that isn’t there. Letting out a breath, I slowly get up and head to the bathroom to shower. I go over the pitch in my head as I wash myself and then get out, wrapping myself in a towel to pick out an outfit for the day.
I grab a favorite pink button up but put it back, trading it for a dark maroon blouse. Pairing it with a black skirt and jacket, I go into the kitchen and pick up a green smoothie.
“I like that color on you.” Easton’s hand lands on my waist and something about his warm touch is off putting.
“Thanks.” I take a drink and turn, confusion starting to bubble up along with guilt. Why am I thinking about another man? One I’m fairly certain I haven’t met. “I haven’t worn it before, have I?”
“No. I’d definitely remember. Your ass looks nice in that skirt.” He playfully squeezes my butt cheek and goes around the counter to pour himself a cup of coffee. I take my smoothie into the living room, looking out the window as I slowly sip it.
Princess, my black cat, walks between my feet and trips me. Green juice sloshes down my hand and onto the floor. “Shit,” I mumble and go into the kitchen to get a towel. Back in the living room, I bend down to wipe up the floor and get a flash of myself cleaning up blood. Lips parting, a let out a gasp.
“You okay?” Easton asks.
“Yeah,” I tell him and turn, looking at his handsome face. But when I do, I get another flash. He was there too, helping me clean up the blood. I know I had an extra glass of wine last night, but I didn’t black out and kill someone, did I? Even if I did, I don’t think Easton would be acting this calm if we disposed of a body together. “Just jittery. You know how I don’t like being in the spotlight.”
“And you know I think you should be in it more.”
“Of course you’d say that.” I smile and wipe up the rest of the spilled smoothie.
“I’ve been saying it for years.”
We go about the rest of our morning, and I take an Uber to the office.
“Morning, Callie,” Nelly says as I walk by her desk.
“Morning,” I reply. “How are the kids?”
She takes a breath and rolls her eyes. “Crazy as ever but I love them.”
“I don’t know how you do it. Princess is enough work for me,” I say and we both laugh. She picks up her phone and shows me pictures of her twins at last night’s soccer game.
A feeling of Deja vu comes over me, and I walk a different way to my desk than I usually do just to break up my routine. I hear two other editors talking as I walk by, and one of them mentions going back to The Taproom tonight.
“Taproom,” I whisper to myself as I sit at my desk. Why does it sound familiar? I open my laptop and pull up a Google search. Turns out The Taproom is a hipster bar in Lincoln Park. It’s not a place I would go, and I’m positive I’ve never been there. I close my eyes and not only can see the inside of the place, but I can hear chatter over a live band and can smell whiskey and buttered soft pretzels.
I was there not that long ago and I think something happened in the bathroom. Was it something so traumatic I’ve blocked it out of my memory? I wouldn’t go to a bar without Easton, and if something happened, he wouldn’t just let me repress and move on.
Trying to focus on work, I close the tab and open my email. I get caught up and then open the manuscript I’m editing. I get to a line where the author makes a reference to Romeo and Juliet, and it jars me for some reason.
“Juliet,” I read out loud and then gasp as it all comes rushing back. Juliet! My daughter! I get to my feet so fast I bump my desk, knocking over a stack of books.
“You all right, Cal?” another editor asks.