Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
“Okay,” I agreed, nodding.
Kingston owned his own thriving business. I’d gone to his offices to meet him about the house. He was clearly doing well for himself. I didn’t know anything about Atlas and his financials, but he was obviously doing alright if he owned a whole house to only spend a week or two in it a year, right?
“Good,” Kingston said, nodding, looking relieved. “I’m gonna go see if I can get the guest room more accessible for you,” he said to Atlas, who gave him a distracted nod.
“Can I get you some… ibuprofen or something?” I asked as his face kept tensing. “You look like you’re… feeling it,” I said.
Those pretty dark eyes of his flicked up to mine, and he gave me a tight nod. “If you have any acetaminophen,” he said. “I can’t have ibuprofen with a concussion.”
“Yeah, I have it,” I said, rushing off to the bathroom to grab the bottle, then to the kitchen to get a glass of water. “This is all I…we… have,” I said, handing him the glass, then opening the bottle for him. “But if you give me a list, I can run out.”
“This is fine,” he assured me, bracing the glass on his thigh to take the pills I shook into his hand. “Thanks. But I’ll give you my card to stock up whenever you have time.”
“I can go right—“ I started.
“AJ,” he cut me off, his smirk a little boyish. “If you’re that accommodating all the time, people are gonna leave treadmarks all the fuck over you.”
Well, damn.
There was nothing like getting called out on one of your most glaring flaws from a complete stranger.
“And I’d like to say I’m better than that,” he went on. “But in this condition, I can see myself asking for too much too often. So set a boundary and stick to it.”
“Okay,” I said, nodding. “Well, in that case, I will go tomorrow before work.”
“There you go,” he said, shooting me that charming smile again. Just before there was a loud rap at the door that had me nearly coming out of my skin. “Whoa there,” Atlas said, brows pinching. “It’s probably Shane.”
“Shane?” I asked.
“A family friend,” he said. “King!” he called.
“Yep, I heard him,” Kingston said, rushing down the hall to answer the door, stepping outside to talk to this Shane guy.
“Go eat your dinner, sweetheart,” Atlas told me, nodding toward the kitchen.
“Do you want some?” I asked. “I always buy enough to feed a small army. I can never decide what I want, so I get a bunch of stuff.”
“Probably a good idea to get some food in my stomach,” he said, nodding. “Thanks.”
Happy to have a moment alone to let my mind really work through this new arrangement, I scurried off to the kitchen, grabbing two dishes out of the cabinet.
It finally made sense why there were only four plates. And they were all those brightly colored melamine plates they put at the end caps of big box stores in the summer. Because what man thinks to fully stock his kitchen? Especially when he doesn’t even actually live in the house? He probably just passed them while buying other necessities, grabbed four, and went on with his life.
There had also only been two coffee mugs. And the only glasses in the house were two rocks glasses that went with the whiskey in one of the cabinets that I hadn’t touched.
Stocking the kitchen was something I found myself fantasizing about, even going online and saving a bunch of items to a wish list. Plates and pasta bowls and a cutlery set that actually matched. Shelf liners. Spoon rests. You name it, I had it all mapped out.
In fact, in my little fantasy world, I’d redecorated this entire house. New paint, art, lamps.
Even the yard had been meticulously planned, opening up a few beds to fill with flowers for pollinators. Maybe a nice little back deck with some rocking chairs. A hammock under the big tree for temperate weather outdoor naps.
Maybe it wasn’t healthy to have planned this house out so much, considering I knew it would only be temporary.
But thinking forward was important for me.
It gave me hope for a better future.
I shook those thoughts away, forcing myself to stay in the moment.
I piled a little bit of everything onto two plates, and brought one out to Atlas.
“Do you need help?” I asked.
To that, he shot me that boyish smile again. “Feeding me? Fuck, I hope not,” he said, reaching for the fork, and sliding it between his little finger braces. It wasn’t a smooth move, but he managed without spilling much.
I left him alone, not wanting to make him feel insecure as he tried to feed himself, and went into the kitchen to eat by myself, sticking some pieces into the puzzle I was working on.