Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
“Would you like something to drink?” the flight attendant asks, and I nod.
“Can I have a bottle of water, please?” I ask, and she returns carrying a silver tray with a bottle of water and a glass. “I don’t need the glass, thank you.” I grab the bottle of water, opening it and finishing half of it before I put it aside and decide to close my eyes.
The next thing I know, we’re landing. I open my eyes and stretch before standing. “Your jacket and boots are waiting,” the flight attendant says.
“Bye-bye, palm trees. Hello, reality,” I mumble, slipping off my sneakers and putting them in my backpack before sliding my feet in my winter boots and then slipping on my big parka jacket. The door opens, and the wind gusts in. “If that doesn’t say Windy City, I don’t know what does.”
She laughs as I walk down the stairs. I make sure one hand holds on to the railing as I head to the waiting black SUV. Something my parents arranged because if it was me, I would be flying coach and hitting up an Uber when I got back. The back door is open for me, so I climb in, then wait for my luggage to be loaded into the trunk.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, so I take it out, seeing a message from Gabriella.
Gabriella: Thank you for being part of our special day. Also I’m so bummed I didn’t see you before you left. Call me later, sister. I can say that now because I’m married to your brother.
I laugh at the last part.
Me: There is no one better for him than you. Actually, you might be too good for him. I hope you made him sign a prenup.
I add a winky face before pressing send and putting my phone away when he starts to drive. I look out the window, seeing a foot of snow was somehow dumped from the time I left on Wednesday until I got back five days later. Wheeling my luggage into the front door of my apartment building is so much fun, especially with the world’s largest hangover.
When I make my way into the lobby of the building, the heat hits me right away. I stomp off the snow from the bottom of my boots before heading to the elevator. The building only has four floors, and if it was up to me—and I didn’t have my luggage—I would take the stairs, but I need every ounce of strength in my body to make it to my apartment.
Huffing as I unlock the big silver door, I push it open before I step in. I turn the lights on before kicking my boots off at the front door. Putting my suitcase in the corner, I decide I’ll tackle that this weekend. My backpack falls on the floor with a clunk before I take off my coat and hang it on the coatrack right beside the door. I grab my telephone from the pocket before I make my way from the front door into the open-concept loft apartment. Well, it was completely open concept, but we put up walls for the bedrooms. It was an old factory building right by the water that was converted into condos. It was the only thing I accepted from my parents. According to my father, it was an investment. It was the one fight I let him win, but I drew the line there. I paid for everything else even though it irked him not to take care of me.
I’m walking to my bedroom when my phone beeps in my hand. I look down and see I’ve gotten an Instagram notification. But I stop in my tracks when I see it’s from Stone Richards.
My fingers swipe up as the phone scans my face, and then I open the app, pressing the corner where the messages are.
I have a bunch of messages I’m ignoring, and he’s at the top. It shows the green dot next to his picture, which is of him in his uniform looking straight into the camera. I press his name and see the gray text.
What is your type, and why is it me?
I can’t help but snort at his cocky fucking message. I’m about to reply when the phone rings weirdly in my hand, and I see he’s calling me from Instagram. What in the hell is this? I obviously accept it and put it to my ear, wondering if it works the same way as a phone call. “Hello?”
“Hey, gorgeous.” His smooth voice sounds like he just woke up.
“Did you just call me on Instagram?” I ask, so confused about this.
“I did.” He chuckles.
“I have so many questions.” I walk over to my bed. “Number one, how can you just call someone on Instagram?”