Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 37200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
“Hey, sorry about that. I tried to be fast in the bathroom.” My eyes leave the dining table and focus on Mille. Her back is ramrod straight when she sees what I’ve been reading.
“When were you going to tell me? I could be helping you. Jesus, Millie, you don’t have to do this all on your own.” The words come out cold and businesslike. I take her in. Her eyes show that fierce fire when she’s pissed. She’s in a white tee-shirt stretched across her tits with the name of the coffee shop emblazoned in black lettering, a pair of jeans that hit her low on her hips and are loose in the legs yet still give her shape.
“Why would I ask you for help, Ezra?” She crosses her arms beneath her breasts, hip cocked out to one side, foot tapping.
“I don’t know, maybe because you know I’m in this type of business. Sure, I’m not a banker, but do you realize this would take a matter of minutes instead of the hours you’ve been pouring into it?” I’ve yet to change into clothes, not that I mind standing in front of her in nothing but a pair of loose pajama bottoms that I wear in the mornings. We both know the effect it has on us.
“Ezra, not to be a dick, but this isn’t your business. You’ve asked not to put labels on this, and I’ve agreed to it. We don’t even keep things at each other’s places, your doing by the way. Therefore, I’m not putting you in the middle of what I want for my own.”
“I see. Well, then I’ll leave you to it.” I walk out of the kitchen, giving her my back, heading to my office while seething at the fact that Millie is being stubborn. Another reason to not have a relationship. You go out and offer to help someone only for them to throw it in your face. Fuck this, and fuck that.
SIX
Millie
“Well, that was a bundle of joy to deal with this morning,” I say once Ezra is out of earshot. I was going to wake up early, let him sleep, get my work done, and then meet him back in bed. Clearly, those plans have been botched since Ezra has now locked himself in his home office. I gather my stuff. There’s no use staying here when he’s in a foul mood, and seriously, he has no reason to get mad. The man refuses to label this, saying we’re not dating, we aren’t in a relationship, basically friends with benefits, and there are times I’ve questioned myself about allowing this to go too far. The way he refuses to leave even so much as a footprint at my house. He knows I’m on birth control, too, which I mean, it’s cool, he doesn’t want kids, but damn if it doesn’t sting that he doesn’t trust me. And that’s what it boils down to—there’s no trust in this ‘situationship’. It doesn’t take long for me to gather my paperwork, laptop, and pens, stashing them back in my bag then moving it closer to the front door. I’m not sure what this means for Ezra and me. He acts like I’ve wounded his precious ego, and while maybe I did, it sure wasn’t my intention. Stupid male pride. I walk up the stairs, light on my feet. The last thing I want to do is have another conversation with Ezra at the moment, not when my emotions are already all over the place. The ups and downs of my everyday life, socking my heart and soul into a coffee shop that I’ve wanted as my own could slip through my fingers at any time. Bonnie and Chad could decide to sell to a developer. It would sure as heck make them more money than the offer I’m writing. Then there’s a chance Scott could sweep it right out from under me. It’s hard to tell what could happen since they’re a closed-off bunch, a huge change from before the owners left to retire in Florida.
I find a pair of socks in my bag. Thankfully, it’s packed, and it won’t take me long to slide them on before putting on my well-worn Birkenstocks. What can I say? Vanessa got me addicted to the shoes in high school, and now they’ve transitioned well into my thirties. When they do finally break, I have no issue replacing them. I’m grabbing my bag while remaining as silent as a mouse as I head back down the stairs, which is hard to do in a shoe with zero support on your heel.
Maybe this is the beginning of the end. There are so many variables. I mean, the last time, I was sick—which is also when my best friend got together with Ezra’s best friend. The only time I heard from him was a text here or there. Meanwhile, Parker pulled out all the stops to win Vanessa. The same can’t be said for Ezra. Nope, that man has his mind, body, and soul locked up. I stop right outside his office door, hand pressing against the solid dark walnut-colored door. I hold firm in my stance to not poke the bear. “Bye, Ezra.” A small silent farewell is what I give him instead. Who knows if I’ll be back, and I can’t waste time wondering when the paperwork in my laptop bag is calling my name. I’m only hopeful that Bill or his nighttime replacement is down in the condo lobby. The train station is going to be packed, and a taxi will more than likely be impossible to find. Jesus, today is really shaping up to be a pain in my ass. I grab my other bag and hit the elevator button to carry me downstairs, wondering if I should have left my keys on the foyer table while I was at it. That will have to wait. Ezra has his key to my place, and I’m not going to turn around and walk to his office to ask. Too bad Vanessa isn’t working nights this week. I could really use her to talk me through this disaster of a morning.