Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 61248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 306(@200wpm)___ 245(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
I change the subject and focus on him, not me and my drama. “Will I be meeting your new girlfriend before I leave?” I ask.
Now he holds up his hands. “She’s not my girlfriend.” He points a finger at me. “What about you? When are you going to start dating?”
Ethan wasn’t dating. He was sex, and sex is not the topic he’s broached. “Dating is overrated,” I say instead, “until you meet the right person. I hope you have, Dad.”
“We’ll see,” he says, noncommittally, and that’s okay. He’s healing by way of putting himself out there and living again. And maybe that’s why I needed Ethan, too. To heal. To dare an adventure with a man I knew wouldn’t want more from me than goodbye. And a good investment, I tell myself. And for that, I should be proud, I remind myself again. Not mad.
And I am proud of myself.
I’m going to go to Paris and live a fashion dream, for me, not Ethan, on my own terms.
Chapter Six
Sofia
Harper attempts to call me once a day for three straight days. Considering Nick is MIA and I need my contract properly reviewed, rather quickly at this point, I’m beyond tempted to talk to her. But at the core of that temptation is my need to be told Ethan wants me, and that’s not a healthy or smart reason to include her in my decision-making process. Not only that, but it’s clear she’s weighed in his direction on all things, including me. Which is all good and well, but as day four rolls around, with no communication from Nick, I’m losing my mind, certain that this deal is going to fall apart. Harper said the contract looked good but I don’t know if that’s before or after she does whatever attorneys do. I try to call Nick. I’m told he’s in court all week. That’s it. I decide right then that if Harper calls again, I’ll talk to her.
Hours later, though, the silence is deafening but I find sanity in a rush of customers. When the calm sets in, and I’m alone and I’ve locked up, the store phone rings, and I rush to grab the line. “Zoey’s. Can I help you?”
“Sofia.”
Ethan’s rich and masculine voice hums through the phone line, sounding more like a seductive song than a mere greeting. Defensiveness bristles. “Seriously, Ethan? Why would you call this line? You tricked me into answering.”
“Would you have answered if I called your cellphone?”
“We’ll never know. Because you didn’t. And this is not six days.”
“Because four killed me more than I thought six would. Can we please talk?”
There’s a twist in my belly, a flicker of hope in my heart, and I tell myself this isn’t personal. He’s worried about the fashion line for some reason I do not fully understand. “I don’t have anything to talk about with you, Ethan.”
He’s silent a beat, then, “How about Paris?”
My heart flutters with the question, and I have no idea why I feel vulnerable and exposed, as if he’s asking me something deeply personal. Which I guess it is, but it’s also not as personal as I’m making it. The door chimes, and my heart lurches. “I forgot to lock up, and someone is here,” I say quickly. “I have to go.”
I hang up on him, and I forget the door, immediately wishing I could go back in time and undo what I just did, holding up my hands in distress before they plant on my head. Why, why, why did I hang up on him? He’s my boss. And I’m not a child. I have to get by the personal side of things to go to Paris. “Sofia?”
Our next-door neighbor Sara’s voice lifts from behind, and I turn as she appears in my line of sight. Sara is forty, which was a crisis for her, as she runs a baby store and fears she’s aging out of relating to her clients. She’s presently considering adding a kid’s clothing section she’d like me to design, because she’s that sweet. “I went on a coffee run,” she says, “and somehow ordered an extra latte on my app. I thought if you’re working late, too, you might like it.”
She’s the best, she really is, and I hate how much I’m struggling to smile and chat a bit with her, but all I can think of right now is me hanging up on Ethan. And the minute she’s gone, I sit down on the ledge by the window and scold myself. I’m the one who’s the problem here. We had sex. It meant nothing, but I turned it into a huge ordeal. I actually thought he created the design opportunity for me for personal reasons rather than professional ones. He must have thought I was a crazy person to think he was that into me just because we got naked together. The truth is, I should be pleased that he’s pursuing me for my designs, and I’m going to screw this up if I’m not careful.