Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 96292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
“You have some explaining to do,” she says, stepping aside to let me in.
I’m underdressed. Even if my clothes were freshly cleaned and pressed, I’d be underdressed. “You said you were wearing a skirt and blouse. Not—”
“I was,” she says, closing the door.
Heaven help me, the back of her dress exposes so much skin.
“But,” she says, “thirty minutes ago, a woman I’ve never met delivered those two black garment bags. She verified my name and told me to have a lovely evening.”
There’s an unzipped black bag on the back of the sofa beside one that’s still zipped.
“This dress was in one. The other is yours.”
I shake my head. “I know nothing about this.” I grab the bag and unzip it. “Shit,” I whisper, staring at the suit I tried on the other day and the shoes in a smaller cloth bag at the bottom.
“Someone guessed my size correctly. Why do I think it was Callie and not you?”
I continue to shake my head. “I didn’t ask them to do this.”
“I don’t doubt that.” June chuckles. “I was only kidding when I said you had some explaining to do. Go put it on,” she says with excitement in her voice.
Was I wrong? Should I have purchased the suit and thought to buy her a beautiful dress?
“Okay,” I murmur, feeling too uneasy to look her in the eye.
After I put on the suit, including the suspenders, I step out of her bedroom.
She bites her lower lip for a second. “My God, you look so handsome. But you forgot to tie your tie.”
“Uh,” I glance down at it, tugging on both ends. “I don’t know how to tie it.”
“Front, back, through, pull,” she says as her heels click along the wood floor toward me.
“Huh?”
She smiles, taking both ends of my tie. “It’s what my dad always said. Let me.”
“You smell good,” I say, inhaling her floral perfume.
“Thank you.” She flits her gaze to me for a brief second before refocusing on the tie. “You smell good too.”
“It’s Dr. Squatch soap, that I …” Stole from Monroe. “Used,” I grin.
“I like it.” She finishes my tie, making a few little adjustments.
“Is that your stomach?” I ask.
She laughs. “Yes. I’m hungry. We should’ve made reservations somewhere so we’re not late to the orchestra, but there’s a little place down the street that might—”
“I made reservations.” I tip my chin up with a little pride.
“You did?” She gets that look in her eyes like she did telling me about the clothes being delivered.
I nod.
“Love you,” she whispers, gripping my jacket.
I kiss her. That little sigh she gives me is my undoing. But we have reservations, so I end the kiss and blow out a breath. “I have Rupert’s Chevelle. He let me use it, but I have to get it back to his house tonight. So …”
“That was nice of him.” She turns and grabs a small black purse from the kitchen counter before meeting me at the door.
“Yeah. He’s …” I run my hands down the front of my expensive suit. “He’s full of surprises.”
During dinner, June beams. I’m glad she’s happy, but this isn’t my life. It won’t last forever. Will she be fine with chicken fingers and fries in the future? But how ridiculous of me to assume we’ll have a future when she finds out about my past.
“Do you like this?” I say, nodding around the restaurant.
She swallows and blots her mouth. “Yes. The food is excellent. How’s your steak?”
“No. Well,” I glance down at my half-eaten steak, “the food is fine. It’s good. But I mean this place. Do you like nice restaurants? Dressing up like this? The orchestra?” I shake my head. “That’s not fair. Of course, you like the orchestra. But you seemed fine with us wearing more casual clothes, yet you looked pretty excited about the clothes we have on now.”
June sets her fork down and reaches for her wine glass while her gaze moves around the room. “I mean, sure.” She shrugs. “Who doesn’t like to look nice and eat good food?”
“Don’t you think about how this one meal could buy five regular meals, maybe ten? The money from these clothes could buy clothes and shoes for a lot of kids who have never owned a new piece of clothing?”
Her smile fades.
“I’m not trying to make you feel guilty. I love being here with you. And of course I want you to enjoy dinner and the orchestra, but I guess I just wonder if you dream of this kind of life.” I gulp half of my water and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
“Flynn …”
“It’s fine. I just feel like a hypocrite being here. I hate people who can afford to live like this.”
She winces.
“I mean,” I shake my head, “I don’t hate them in the way I hated most of my foster parents who were awful to me and other kids. I just mean I hate how rich people brag about giving to the poor. Ya know? But if you can still afford to eat like this and buy clothes like these, then maybe you’re not giving enough.”