Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
A lot of that likely had to do with the woman I could see cooking me dinner in my kitchen.
“Honey, I’m home!” I called teasingly.
Instead of being greeted by the woman who I’d hoped would come running, it was the fat, hairless cat who lumbered over to greet me.
The ugly thing’s head rubbed up against my pants leg, and I had to squelch the urge not to cringe away from it.
The cat was so ugly, and it really freaked me out.
“Come into the kitchen!” she called loudly. “I’m making gravy, and it has to be stirred constantly or it’ll burn.”
Dropping my keys on the entry way table as I shut the door—a table that appeared suspiciously cleaner than when I’d left that morning—I walked past my overstuffed brown leather couch and into the kitchen.
My eyes found her instantly.
I watched for long moments as she made the gravy, just like I’d shown her a year ago. She didn’t miss a single damn thing.
Then, more pride filled me as I watched her pull out the chicken cordon bleu I’d taught her how to make the first time we cooked together. It was perfect.
I sidestepped the cat and turned towards July, my breath halting in my chest as I caught my first sight of her in a whole twenty-four hours.
We’d only been back together for a little over a week, but in that week it was like the last year hadn’t happened.
Everything was the same. It was like only a day had gone by since we’d last seen each other. We picked up right where we left off, and it felt…right.
I hadn’t realized just how unhappy I’d been since I’d spent so much time trying to avoid feeling anything altogether. But with her here and seeing the change in not just my home life, but my work life as well, I realized that I wasn’t simply unhappy when we were broken up.
I’d been depressed.
I felt like the sun had come out for the first time in a year, that’s how dramatic the change in me and my disposition truly was.
Where there used to be only rain and cloudy skies, now there was nothing but blue during the day and the moon and stars at night.
“Well, don’t just stand there,” July muttered distractedly. “Go get the plates down, and put the chicken on a plate. Everything’s done but this gravy.”
I did as she instructed, but made sure to brush up against her backside as I reached over her head to grab the dishes.
“We’re going to have to talk about the placement of your dishes,” she murmured. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“What are you talking about?” I questioned as I placed the plates on the counter next to where the chicken was resting on a hot pad next to the sink.
“I’m saying that it makes no freakin’ sense for me to have the unload the dishwasher all the way over there,” she pointed to the dishwasher that was behind me on the opposite side of the island. “Then walk around this island and reach up about eight feet to put the plates on that shelf. It’s all wasted movement that could take you about fifteen less minutes to unload the dishwasher if you moved the plates in that cabinet beside the dishwasher.”
My kitchen was shaped in a U, with an island in between. There were three walls of cabinets, upper and lower, and I hadn’t given it a single thought about where I’d put my plates before, until she’d just said something.
My lip quirked up in a grin.
“You can rearrange my kitchen if you want,” I offered. “Just don’t expect me to help you.”
“Who does your dishes now?” She looked at me curiously.
I smiled at her obvious anger that I could tell was boiling right under the surface of her skin.
She held control of her tongue, and admiration filled my chest when she didn’t just blurt out what she really wanted to.
“I have a cleaning service that comes out and does it for me,” I told her. “They clean my dishes, change my sheets, make sure I have groceries.”
Her mouth dropped open.
“You don’t have to go grocery shopping?” she exclaimed.
I shook my head, liking the way that smile of hers lit up her beautiful face.
My eyes traveled down her body.
She was wearing a black t-shirt that declared her a member of the NRA, and a pair of khaki shorts that fell to just a bit below her crotch. If there were three inches separating her vagina from the outside world, I’d be impressed.
Her feet were bare, showing off her pink toenails decorated with black and yellow flowers on her big toes.
My eyes caught on a fresh cut on her knee, and I zeroed in on it.
“I need the number of this person,” July declared. “What are you doing?”