Total pages in book: 6
Estimated words: 5469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 27(@200wpm)___ 22(@250wpm)___ 18(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 5469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 27(@200wpm)___ 22(@250wpm)___ 18(@300wpm)
My thighs throbbing and my lungs burning, I rehearse the lines I practiced with my brother so I won’t flub them in front of the lawyers. As I fly, the warm June wind whipping past me, I prep in my head till the words are second nature.
I run down my mental checklist again as I exit the High Line and cut across town to my block. I have all the documentation. I have all the information I need to make my point.
I turn onto my street, head down, when, whoa . . .
There she is.
The cake babe. The witty woman. The clever, fork-licking, synonym slinger. I haven’t seen her since that day in the cake shop.
And I’m seeing her now, on my block, the very second I have someplace else to be?
Are you fucking kidding me, universe?
And even though I’m still running far away from dating and the disasters it brings, I’ve been secretly hoping I’d bump into her again. Hell, I’ve been wishing she’d appear.
Ever since the day I met her, I’ve imagined this scenario.
So today, of all days, the universe delivers the fork-licker?
Thanks a fucking lot, Fate.
Now is the worst possible moment. I can’t afford any distraction. But if she’s here, maybe she lives on my street and I can find her tomorrow. I’ll talk to her then and explain about the cake shop.
Then, a truck wheels around the corner.
Shit.
I’m about to get clipped if I don’t hop onto the sidewalk. I jump my bike onto the concrete, and then everything happens in slow motion and all at once.
Boom.
I’m about to smash into the woman from the cake shop.
This was not how I was supposed to get her name. Not when I am late for the most important meeting of my life.
But when I spot a glass slipper on the sidewalk, I concoct a plan . . .
* * *