Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
"If you need the money, why don't you pawn the watch?" I ask when he doesn’t respond. His eyebrows only furrow in confusion. “Oh, is it sentimental? I’m sorry. I shouldn't have said that. It was rude.” I’m always sticking my foot in my mouth.
“I’m not a driver. Well, I drive, but I don’t do it for a living.”
“Right,” Duh, that’s plain stupid to think. “But—” I glance back to where he’d picked me up from. “Did I get in the wrong car!?" I gasp.
“Not the wrong car if you ask me.” As the light changes to green, Caleb switches off the dome light. He starts driving again.
“Wait, where are we going? I have to go back. I have a car coming,” I protest.
“I can drive you.”
“Really?”
“Of course I can.” I can’t help but smile. See, he’s always so freaking nice.
“That’s really kind of you.” He grunts a response. “Let me find the address again. This is all so last second. I got kicked out of my place abruptly,” I tell him. “Also, I was fired! Can you believe that? I suppose I won't be seeing you around much anymore,” I ramble on.
I often do that with him. I don’t know if it’s because he makes me nervous, but in a fun shy way, or if I’m trying to fill the silence because he doesn’t talk as much as I do. Plus, he once told me he enjoyed the sound of my voice. He might change his mind if he heard me sing.
“I can give you a job.” I stop fiddling with my phone, which is still being a pain in the rear.
“You’d give me a job?”
“If you want.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal.
“Just like that?” I snap my fingers.
“Just like that,” he parrots.
“But you don’t even know my skill set beyond making coffee.”
“Anything can be learned.”
“You’re really sweet. Has anyone ever told you that before?” There aren’t a lot of great men out there these days. At least in my experience, but my luck is terrible.
“No one has ever told me that before.” He chuckles.
“But in all seriousness, I only have a high school diploma.” College wasn’t in the cards for me. I think I might have liked it. Or maybe not, if it is anything close to high school ‘cause that majorly sucked. “I did take a few college courses in high school, though,” I add. “Not that I did very well in them,” I admit. He’s been so kind to me that I want to make sure he knows what he’s getting himself into.
“You’re always so honest.”
“It’s the best policy,” I chirp.
“And it’s one of the things I love about you. I just don’t want you to have to think that you always have to be so chipper if you’re not feeling it. You’ve had a shit day.” One of the things he loves? Did I catch that right? “You okay? You went quiet on me. You never go quiet.”
“Yeah, it’s just nice to hear. Sometimes if you pretend to be happy, you can trick yourself into believing it.” I think I have been doing that for most of my life. It’s exhausting at times, but it’s also what’s gotten me through some of the toughest times.
“You shouldn’t have to pretend, Gabriella.”
Pretending is all you often have.
5
CALEB
The car falls quiet again. What I usually consider comforting is now exactly the opposite. I despise it, but I do not wish for her to believe that she is obligated to fill the silence. I don’t want her to think she has to do anything. But her words have given me purpose. I want the pretending to end.
"Oh, the address,” she finally says. “My phone is being a brat.” Gabriella lets out an adorable huff.
“Why don’t you stay with me?” I offer.
“What? I couldn't do that.”
“Why not? I have a penthouse with five bedrooms.”
“Why do you have five bedrooms?”
“I wanted to be on the top floor, and the resale value is top tier.”
“I don’t want to intrude. You’re already doing too much. The ride and then offering me a job.” Shit, how can I convince her to stay with me? An idea pops into my mind. In the corporate world, you have to think fast. Being at the top of your game is crucial.
"Actually, it's part of the job. I need an assistant.” I toss it out there.
“Don't you have one?”
“I have one for work, but I need a personal one that handles things outside of work. Keeps the rest of my life in line.”
“Hmm.” I glance in the rearview mirror. I can barely make her out, but I can see that she is tapping two fingers against her mouth as she thinks. “I’m not really sure how to do that. I’d be lost and might make things worse.”