Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Slept together a week ago? Damn. I guess it’s safe to say Sammy has told Brooke a little bit about us. But with the way Brooke keeps saying woman like it’s a dirty word, I don’t think Sammy told her much after that. She thinks I’m two-timing Sammy like some kind of dirtbag.
“Uh…Brooke?” Chase’s eyes are wide with shock, and within a few seconds, her expression mirrors his.
“Oh no,” she mutters and slaps a hand over her mouth. “Did I just say the quiet part out loud?”
Chase snorts. “Pretty much.”
Truth be told, Brooke has been trying to set Sammy and me up for a while now. She always thinks she’s being sneaky about it, but yeah, it’s pretty fucking obvious. Though, this is definitely the first time she’s voiced it out loud in front of me.
Brooke looks at me and then back at Chase and then at me again. “Just forget it. I’m pregnant and hormonal, and sometimes I say crazy things.”
Chase cracks up, and I have to bite my bottom lip to fight my smile.
“Oh my gosh, you guys! Look at Benji and Dolly!” Brooke exclaims, pointing to where the two dogs are just lying down by the tennis ball again like they always do.
It’s clear that she’s desperate to change the topic of conversation, and there’s a part of me that wants to leave her hanging for a little bit longer. But another part of me is too kind not to throw her a life vest. Especially when she thinks I’m treating her sister like a spring-break-style fling. I don’t know if she knows Sammy’s plans this weekend, but if she does, this should settle her doomsday imagination.
“Do you guys have plans on Sunday?” I question. “I’m going to the Yankees game, and I was wondering if I could drop Dolly off at your place to hang with Benji for a few hours so she doesn’t get bored in the apartment while I’m gone.”
“The Yankees game? On Sunday?” Brooke whips her head back toward me. “Who are you going with?” Her eyes are now narrowed, and her lips are pursed in straight-up skepticism. “Because I know someone else who is going to the Yankees game on Sunday.”
Yep. Safe to say, she knows Sammy’s plans.
“Well, they are playing the Mets.” I laugh. “I’m sure a lot of New Yorkers are going to be there.”
Brooke narrows her eyes. “Why do I get the feeling you’re hiding something from me, Noah?”
“I’m not sure,” I comment before walking away to take over ball-throwing for Chase. The dogs aren’t even busy with the ball right now, but Brooke is a scary interrogator.
Thankfully, after I walk toward the opposite end of the grass, I discreetly glance back toward her and find her busy with something on her phone.
Cross-examination officially over.
Or so I thought.
After I chuck the ball toward Chase, and Benji and Dolly sprint in his direction, my phone vibrates in my pocket.
Sammy: Are you with my sister right now?
I quickly look over my shoulder to see that Brooke is now sitting on a park bench, her attention still on her phone.
Me: Yeah. I met her and Chase at Central Park so Benji and Dolly could play.
Sammy: Did you happen to tell her you’re going to the Yankees game on Sunday?
Me: Yeah… I asked if Dolly could hang out at their place during the game because Brooke convinced herself I was texting with another woman when I was texting you. Sorry for bringing someone else in on our business.
Sammy: Pfft. It’s not your fault that my sister is a nosy little biotch.
Me: I take it she’s interrogating you, too?
Sammy: Yep. Her spidey senses have been activated. And I’m sorry for what’s about to happen. Maybe you should consider grabbing Dolly and leaving the park?
At first, I’m confused by her text, but then, not even a minute later, Brooke’s voice fills my ears. “Freaking finally!” she shouts at the top of her lungs, even fist-pumping the air as she stares down at her phone.
Safe to say, the news of Noah Philips and Sammy Baker has just been made official.
Fuck yes.
Sunday, May 22nd
At a little after nine in the morning, I head out of my apartment with Dolly happily walking beside me on her leash. With no work today and no emergency call-ins from work last night, I actually managed to sleep a solid eight hours.
The prancy pep in Dolly’s step says she was thankful for the quiet night too.
The ride down our elevator is swift, and we’re out on the sidewalk, with the rest of the Sunday morning crowd, in no time at all. New York in the spring is one of my favorite times of year, and this morning’s sunny skies and warm breeze don’t disappoint.
I stop by the food truck that’s parked half a block from my building and grab a coffee for me and a few slices of bacon for Dolly before heading into the park.