Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
“Maybe you’re the woman to change that.”
I groan. “Women always think they can fix men.” My mom always thought if she loved my dad enough, he’d stay with us, or he’d do the right thing by us, but he never did. He always put himself first. “In my experience, people don’t fix other people emotionally. If he doesn’t want to commit, I’m not going to change that.” I’m telling myself what I need to hear. I need to remember who Leo is at his core and why. He’s not going to change. Just like my father is never going to change.
“I know he appreciates what you’re doing for him,” she says after a few minutes. “It’s kind of you.”
“Not really,” I say. “I get a job out of it.” My phone buzzes on the countertop and I flip it over to see who’s messaging.
“True,” she says. “That’s how it started. Doesn’t mean it has to end that way.”
The message alert flashes a number I don’t recognize and my heart aches in my chest. I swipe down on the screen. “Sorry, I just want to check this.”
It’s my dad, asking if we can schedule that coffee.
He messaged me just like he said he would. Maybe him reaching out wasn’t all about the job—or maybe the job was the excuse he needed to take the initiative after all these years. Maybe he’s picking me. Finally. I hate myself for it, but I can’t help but hope. Maybe now that I’m older and things are different—now that I’m not relying on him for anything, now that he doesn’t have to worry about being a provider—maybe now things will be different.
Hope splutters into my chest and I turn the phone back onto its face.
“Sorry, what were you saying?”
Efa smiles at me. “God laughs when we make plans. You said yes to being Leo’s fake fiancée for the job, but maybe you’ll end up being with him for real. I mean, you’re already with him for real.”
“We’re not together,” I say.
She shrugs dismissively. “You’re not pretending to have sex though. That’s happening for real.”
“Right. But sex is sex. Sex isn’t a relationship.”
“But you’re in his apartment, you’re his employee. He may not have thought about it too much either, but this is a big deal for Leo. Don’t underestimate what you have together.”
What we have together?
“Leo is a really good guy at heart,” Efa continues. “He’s not one of these narcissistic players who doesn’t think about other people’s feelings, or see sex as a sport. The reason he doesn’t get close to women is because he’s afraid of being hurt. You two have built trust. I think this is different.”
Different.
I feel something nudge in my chest. I so want what Efa says to be true. I want to be different for Leo, because as I sit here, listening to Efa talk about him—describe him as the good and kind and sensitive guy I’ve come to know him as—I realize things already are different. For me.
TWENTY-THREE
Jules
Leo’s working late tonight and I can’t sit still.
Maybe it’s because I’m not used to being here on my own. Or maybe it’s because I miss him. Either way, it feels uncomfortable to be in this apartment without him. I’m used to his easy smile, the crease between his eyebrows when he’s concentrating. I kinda feel empty without him, even though I just saw him this morning.
I’m in dangerous territory. I’m not supposed to get attached to Leo. I know who he is. I know he doesn’t commit. And I know I’m not the exception. I get it. Or at least, my brain understands all this. My heart? That’s another thing entirely.
I pull out my phone and bring up our message thread. It’s no big deal to offer to order food for him, is it? Maybe I should stop pretending that I don’t want to be the exception and start acting like I should be.
Before I can overthink anymore, I type out, Going to order sushi. Want some?
I send the message and then re-read it. By accident, I’ve also given him the opportunity to make some kind of joke about wanting some.
He replies right away.
Sounds good but no, thanks. I don’t know when I’ll be home.
I know this is his home, but my heart squeezes at the thought that him coming back here, to me, is home.
I miss him.
I read his message again. Something about it doesn’t feel right. Maybe I’m an idiot, but it doesn’t seem like everything’s okay. The vibes are off. I type out another message.
Where are you?
He replies right away.
New River.
Maybe he has a late meeting. It’s nearly nine. Why else would he be there now?
I put my hair up in a bun and head to the door. I grab my sneakers from where I’ve flung them in the hall closet and head out. There’s only one way to be sure if Leo’s okay. I’ll go and check.