Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
So I cleaned up our tea.
I ran the nearly full dishwasher, then I moved out front to wipe down some surfaces and empty the cash drawer. Normally, closing up would mean packing away dozens and dozens of pastries and desserts and breads.
But we were almost completely sold out.
And what we had left, I was going to bring home to binge on.
There was nothing wrong with a little wallowing. Good food, a sad movie, and a handful of tissues.
Get it out so I could move on.
Even as I thought that, though, a car was pulling into the lot.
There was one moment where my belly flip-flopped, where my blood ran cold, visions of hooded men and shiny guns, and little bullets that created big holes flashing across my mind.
My heart was frantically pounding against my ribcage when the door swung open, and a man climbed out.
Not one in a hoodie with a gun.
One in a suit.
Seeing me standing there, his head tipped to one side, looking at me, then approaching.
“Hey!” I said, opening the door, adding some extra friendliness into my tone, trying to cover up for the wave of relief that was rushing through me. “What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Dropped by to drive you home,” he told me.
“What? Really?”
“Yes, really,” he said, brows pinching at something he heard in my tone. “How are you?”
“I’m tired,” I admitted. “Your family apparently have ravenous appetites,” I added.
“Figured that out, did you?” he asked, looking a little sheepish.
“No, actually. My mom did,” I admitted. “She’s better at putting things together like that. It’s really very sweet of them. But they don’t have to do it,” I insisted. Even if the idea of our newfound windfall of income suddenly going away filled me with dread.
“They want to. And, besides, all I’ve heard over the past few days is how good your food is. So they’re happy, you’re happy, it’s all working out for everyone. Did he show you how to work the security system?”
“Yes. It’s all very, oh, what was the term he used?” I said. “Intuitive,” I declared. “It connects to both my and my mom’s phone as well as the computer in the office. He was very nice,” I added.
“Yeah, he’s a good guy. Does a lot of work for my family,” he said. “What?” he asked when I let out a little giggle.
“Oh, it’s just the way you said that,” I said, letting out another little laugh. “He does a lot of work for my family,” I repeated. “It makes you sound like one of those mafia guys in movies,” I told him. “What?” I asked at the surprised look on his face.
“Nothing,” he said, literally shaking his head, like he had to work to knock the look and the thought loose. “Do you need any help finishing up around here?”
“No, she doesn’t,” my mother said, breezing into the front, likely having heard Nino’s voice. “She needs someone to get her out of here and force her to take it easy,” she added, giving Nino a knowing look.
“That’s what I’m here for.”
“You guys are talking about me like I’m a child,” I grumbled.
“Just a very stubborn girl who needs to be reminded that she has to be gentle with herself,” my mother said, running a hand down my back, and leaning in to kiss the side of my head. “Take good care of my girl,” she said to Nino, then made her way into the kitchen.
“I will,” he said, even though she was gone. “Ready to head out?”
“You really don’t have to keep doing this,” I insisted. But was I already gathering my things? Yes, yes, I was.
“Aren’t we beyond those objections?” he asked, holding open the front door for me, then waiting as I set the front door alarm. They worked independently, which was a feature my mom and I had both thought was for the best.
“I feel bad taking up so much of your time,” I admitted as he held open the car door for me, offering me a hand to help me slide in.
I’d like to claim that the pain was getting better, but it was staying at the same sort of constant ache followed by sharp stabbing sensations whenever I moved too quickly or carelessly.
Another week, I had to constantly remind myself, another week and I was going to start feeling better.
In a month, all of this would just be a memory.
It was cheesy of me, but the positive thinking was really all that was keeping me going. If I let myself wallow more than a few minutes here and there, I knew I would fall into the trap of it, forgetting that for me, for this situation, there was a light at the end of the tunnel.
“Where are we going?” I asked when Nino missed the turn for my street.