Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 102185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“Too late.” I take a breath to help heave it up just a bit more, but I’m failing. “Now we’re wedged here on the stairs. I just know this is how we’re going to die.”
“I love you, cuz, but this isn’t how I’m going down. Death by loveseat isn’t my destiny. I haven’t had the chance to have sex at the stadium—”
“Ew.” But I see what she means. “Or in a rowboat in the moonlight.”
“Oddly specific, but I’ll allow.” I can see her thinking when she looks up at the ceiling. When her expression reflects her excitement, she says, “I haven’t kissed my soul mate at the top of the Eiffel Tower.”
“Or at midnight at the top of the Empire State Building.” I grin despite my fingers and muscles in my arms aching. “I haven’t . . .” I close my mouth as the weight of guilt sets in.
I can see the strain of concern weaving across her sweat-glistening forehead. “You haven’t what?”
“I haven’t given my son a father.”
She anchors her leg under her end of the small couch with a heavy sigh escaping her. “You can’t beat yourself up over that. Accidents happen, Crick.”
“But what if . . .” My arms begin to shake. “What if I could right the situation?”
“You already know the answer to that.” A small smile spreads across her face. “If you can right it, then you should.”
I have no idea why I thought we could carry this beautiful, leather loveseat up a flight of stairs. I’m for sure going to be bruised from this dumb idea. “I’m about to drop it.”
A bead of sweat runs down her forehead as fear widens her pupils. “Don’t. You can’t. It will fall back on me, and I can’t hold it by myself.”
“We must let it go. It’s us or the loveseat.” My voice cracks, the last of my strength snapping with it. Just as my fingers slip off the side, the thunder of footsteps pulls my gaze past Savvy. “Griffin?”
I didn’t expect him to dive to catch the loveseat from falling and save the day, but it’s a nice touch. Lifting the center of the furniture to balance my end on a step, he asks, “No movers available?”
“It wasn’t in the budget,” I reply, still pinned to the wall by the cushioned corner of the couch.
Savvy stretches her fingers as Griffin holds the bulk of the weight in his arms. He eyes her and then me. “What’s the plan here?”
My cousin readjusts, appearing to be ready to take this battle on again. “Getting this piece of furniture up the stairs into the new office was the goal. Now I’m leaning toward the trash,” she deadpans. “It’s not worth the effort anymore.”
When Griffin is amused, he struggles to hide it. His grin is quick and reaches his eyes, crinkling them at the sides. This lightheartedness on display last night and today is the opposite of how I initially judged him. “We can do this as a team.” Looking straight at me, he says, “I can lift, but I want you to guide it up.”
Savvy snorts. “Why do I feel like I’m interrupting something here?” I practically lose my footing on the staircase as mortification strikes like lightning. I want to cover my face, hide in shame, but my hands are still stuck holding this damn thing. “You know, that’s what he—”
“We get it, Sav.” I don’t dare look anywhere in the vicinity of Griffin. No way. No how. I can only imagine what he’s thinking. We’re grown adults and still cracking jokes like we’re teenagers. I mean, we do, but that’s between us, not for others to hear.
While I shoot my cousin with a thousand dagger glare, Griffin is kind enough not to add any commentary fuel to the proverbial fire. “We should get moving,” he says. Spinning the couch a few degrees away from me, he frees me. I take two steps up to get a hold of it to guide it from hitting the walls or railing. With a devious grin still on her face, Savvy takes the other end.
Ready to get this over with, I take the glasses that were slipping down my nose from sweat and tuck time onto my head. “I’m good to go.”
Without much effort on either of our parts, the weight falls on Griffin, and he replies, “Two steps at a time.” Fortunately, there are only about twelve steps left since we made it around the split in the staircase. I help guide it up and around the corner, but each time I look back, he doesn’t seem bothered and makes it look as light as a feather. When we get into the office, his patience is one of a saint as Savvy and I discuss where we want it, though I can’t say his expression doesn’t slip a few times as the couch bears down on him.