Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 86444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
“I am so sorry to come by so early, but we were in the neighborhood. I didn’t have your number, so I texted Justin, but he didn’t answer.” He starts to fumble, so I move aside.
“It’s more than okay. Come on in.” I wait for him to walk into the house, and then I hear Zoey.
“Is it Daddy?” she yells from the living room.
“We had a sleepover,” I say. “Come on in, please.”
“I don’t want to intrude,” he says as he follows me into the kitchen and then looks at all the dirty dishes and the flour everywhere. “Whoa.”
I shrug. “She asks me for pancakes,” I say. “I couldn’t say no.” I walk over to the fridge and grab the bottles. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Um.” He looks around, not sure. “I have a chair for her.” I walk past him and go into Zoey’s bedroom, bringing out the activity chair. “It’s a good thing I didn’t throw out any of this stuff,” I say, opening it and then grabbing Ariella from him and kissing her neck. I didn’t even ask if it was okay before I grabbed her. I’m such an idiot, I think as I put her into it. She squeals, and Zoey looks over.
“That’s mine,” she says, and I put my hands on my hips.
“That’s my television,” I say, pointing at the television she was just watching. “And I’m sharing it with you. That is what we do; we share.”
“Wow,” Ralph says. “You just went for it.”
“She can handle it,” I say and then look at him, and as soon as I do, there is the flutter in my stomach again. “What can I get you to drink?”
“Coffee, if you are going to have one also,” he says, and I walk around the counter, pulling the coffee cups out.
“Have a seat,” I say, looking at him as he looks around the kitchen. “Anywhere really that you think will not dirty you.” I laugh. “That stool looks like it’s in a safe zone. You can push my agenda aside.” Turning around, I make him coffee. My hands shake with anticipation and nervousness, and I want to throw my head back and laugh at how silly I’m being.
“Do you work every day?” I look over at him as he points at the book I was writing in. He pulls out a stool right next to Ariella, who is banging on the bell.
I slip onto the stool next to him and hand him his coffee. “Usually, I have everything set up the week before. I usually get on the phone with all my clients at the end of the month, and we talk about what we want to focus on in the months coming up.” I try to explain a little of what I do. I don’t know why I get nervous around him and just word vomit things. “My big workday is really on Sunday as I schedule everything I have. But then sometimes,” I say, taking a sip of my coffee, “things come up like yesterday.”
“Yesterday?” he asks. I grab my phone and pull up the picture that I posted for Justin of the three of them and then another one that is just him and Justin with the caption.
Off-season we are on the same team.
“I tagged you on it so you should see it on your side as well.” He smiles and looks down at his coffee, picking up the mug to take a drink.
“I’m social media dumb.” He looks over at me, and I swear his eyes just got a touch more golden.
“I doubt that,” I say and look over to see Zoey lying on the couch watching television.
“My agent, Becca,” he says, “was the one who mentioned you.” He starts to talk. “She is pushing me to get my ‘social media presence.’” He uses quotation marks at that, and I laugh, making him shake his head. “I swear that is exactly what she said.”
“Why, though?” I ask, wanting to know everything. “Why now?”
He takes a huge breath. “I want to get sponsorships,” he tells me, “and in order to do that . . .”
“You need to be ‘in demand.’” I use the quotations now, and he just nods.
“Yeah, all that.” He takes another sip of coffee. “So lets brainstorming about where to start in order to reach out to companies.” His thumb hits the coffee cup at the same time as Ari starts to whine, and I get up, walking over to the fridge.
“Should I warm up a bottle?” I ask, not sure if she ate or not, and he nods. I take a bottle out of the fridge, then walk over and place it under the hot water. She gets louder and louder, and he picks her up and then gets off his stool. I test the milk and walk over to him. “If she wants it warmer, just let me know.” He places her in his arms and feeds her the bottle.