Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91497 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“I know. It’s—”
“No, listen. I don’t expect you to trust me one hundred percent from the get-go.” He was drawing his thumb back and forth across my cheek, trying to ease my furrowed brows. “This is new, and as your boyfriend, it’s my job to prove myself to you, okay? If you stick this out with me, if we just take it day by day, I promise I won’t disappoint you.”
I couldn’t say anything after that. I was so prepared to have to play it cool and act like I was fully on board with everything. Oh yeah, going to a bar with a bunch of girls? That’s so fun and exciting! Let me know who desperately wants to hook up with you tonight! I didn’t expect him to understand where I was coming from, to accept me where I was at rather than trying to make me feel like I was in the wrong. It choked me up.
He leaned down and kissed me again. “Do you work today?”
I shook my head.
“You can stay here as much as you want while I’m gone. There’s a spare key in the junk drawer in the kitchen. Take it.”
“Okay.”
He pushed off the bed to finish gathering his stuff. “The building has a great gym and a sauna. I know you run outside, but there’s a pool here too if you want to give it a try. Oh, and down in the lobby there’s a complimentary coffee bar, barista included. You’ll love it.”
As nice as his offer was, I didn’t linger at his place for long after he left. It made me feel inexplicably sad. His pillow smelled like him and his toiletries were arranged so neatly on his bathroom counter and the picture of him and his dad framed on his dresser was just too sweet. Why am I like this?! I showered and changed and grabbed the spare key like he told me to, then I tried to go about a regular day. I went grocery shopping and then out for a run. I surprised Harper in the afternoon with an armful of art supplies and we painted pictures on canvases in her playroom.
“Oh, that’s really good, Aunt Tate. Is it supposed to be a whale?”
“A butterfly.”
“Right! Yes! I can really tell!” she said, lying so she wouldn’t hurt my feelings.
I sent a picture of it to Grant.
“Cool butterfly,” he wrote back.
We’d been texting off and on all day. I wasn’t sure how it was going to work. I’d planned on giving him space—after all, I know he’s a busy guy—but within an hour of leaving for the airport with his team, he was already giving me updates. It was just little stuff, like a picture of his bagel, which he said was the best one he’d ever had; the view of his hotel room; a funny part of the book he was reading. We settle into a nice rhythm over the six days he’s gone. My phone isn’t glued to my hands or anything, but I’m also generally aware of what he’s up to and I like that we both seem to want to stay in contact throughout the day. He calls me when he can. Sometimes it doesn’t work, like if he doesn’t get home from the stadium until really late and I have an early shift at the hospital the next day, but the night before he gets home, he has one of the best games of his life against the White Sox and I stay up waiting for his call.
It’s a little past midnight when my phone vibrates on my nightstand. I jump for it and answer it straight away.
“Grant?”
I don’t know why I say it like that, like someone else might be using his phone.
“Hey, Tate.”
I love hearing his voice. I could talk to him all day every day if our schedules allowed.
“Your game…”
He laughs.
“I can’t believe how good you played! That double play in the fourth inning! Talk to your dad yet?”
“Just got off the phone with him. He, of course, had some pointers for me. Areas where I can improve…”
I smile. “Parents keep us humble, don’t they? I’m sure if my mom watched a broadcast of one of my shifts at the hospital, she’d have a list a mile long of exactly what I’m doing wrong. Never mind that she’s not in the medical field…”
He chuckles, then I hear “Oh! Talking to Tate?”
It’s Dustin in the background, followed by Nick. “Tate! Can you hear me? You have this boy in love!”
Dustin cuts in again. “Yeah, tell her how much you’ve talked about her this week, Navarro. Tell her you’re obsessed with her. God it’s sick. Tate!” His voice gets louder like he’s fighting to get the phone out of Grant’s hand. “It’s all I’ve heard. He’s been such a baby about it. I’m surprised he doesn’t have a countdown or something ticking away until he sees you again.”