Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 128417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Kat looks at Hannah for confirmation. “Great,” she says.
“Hey, maybe you should think about opening Golden PR in Los Angeles instead of Seattle,” Hannah suggests. “Maybe you could do PR for the entertainment industry.”
“Well, that’d be pretty stupid,” Jonas pipes in, sipping his Scotch.
“What would be stupid?” Henn asks, clearly feeling defensive on behalf of Hannah. “Sounds like a great idea to me.”
“No, I mean, it’d be stupid for Kat to move to L.A.,” Jonas clarifies. “What would be the point of Kat moving to L.A. right when Josh is moving back home to Seattle in a couple months?”
Fuck me. My stomach lurches into my throat and my eyes bug out. This isn’t the way I’d intended to tell Kat about my upcoming move. Shit. I didn’t even think to warn Jonas I hadn’t told Kat about the move.
“What?” Kat asks, her eyes blazing with instant excitement. She whips her head to look at me. “Is he serious?” She clutches her chest, obviously overcome. “You’re moving to Seattle?” She’s practically shrieking with joy.
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.
“For good? You’re moving here... for good? To live?” Yep, full on shrieking. She’s acting like she just won the showcase showdown on The Price is Right.
“Yeah. Um. I’m moving home. Just got a place.”
She’s bouncing happily in her seat. “When? This is awesome. A dream come true.”
“In a two or three months, probably.”
“Really? Oh my God. Why didn’t you tell me? Did you just decide today? Why didn’t you tell me? This is incredible news. Oh my God. I’m elated.”
“You didn’t know?” Jonas asks, his face etched with obvious confusion.
Kat takes in the expression on Jonas’ face and her entire demeanor changes on a dime. Boom. She knows something’s up. Just like that. Thanks, Jonas.
“No, he didn’t mention it to me,” she says slowly, her eyes drifting warily to mine. “Why didn’t you mention it to me, Josh?” she asks, her tone edged with obvious apprehension. “Were you planning to... surprise me?”
Oh shit. This isn’t good. This is really, really bad. “Uh...” I begin.
“How long have you known?” she asks quietly, understanding dawning on her. “You said you already found a place?”
Shit. I’ve totally fucked up here. I’ve really, really fucked up.
“I’ve known for just a little while,” I say. “Let’s talk about it later, okay?”
She swallows hard. “How long have you known, Josh?” Her lip trembles.
I look at the group. They’re all staring at me.
“Did you know when I said that thing about the long distance thing being brutal? Did you know then?”
Shit. “Let’s talk about it later, babe,” I say, trying to sound charming and smooth. “Don’t get all worked up about it. I was just waiting until it was for sure.”
A strange cocktail of emotions flashes across her face in response to that comment—like she’s not sure whether to be extremely disappointed or relieved. “Oh, it’s not for sure? That’s why you didn’t tell me?”
“Well, no. Actually.” I swallow hard. “It’s for sure. I’m moving.”
“Oh.” She shifts in her seat. Her cheeks flush. “That’s great. So you’ve already made... plans? You’ve got a place?”
“Let’s talk about it later. What’s everyone planning to sing next?”
The entire bar is boisterously singing along to the final chorus of “American Pie.” But I feel anything but festive. My stomach is churning. My chest is tight.
“Have you put your house on the market yet?” Kat asks, her chin wobbling.
Oh shit. This is a catastrophe. Why didn’t I foresee how badly this would go down?
“Uh. Yeah, actually, it sold last week.”
“It already sold?” Her face turns bright red and her eyes prick with tears. “How long was it on the market?”
“Can we talk about this later. In private?”
“How long was it on the market?” she asks between gritted teeth.
“About three weeks.”
The two “American Pie” guys depart the stage to raucous applause.
“And now,” the DJ says into his microphone, reading from the piece of paper I gave him earlier. “I have a very special treat for you.”
“Kat, we’ll talk about it later, okay? Here.” I pull the poker chip out of my pocket and plunk it into her palm. “Please. I’ll explain everything to you later. Right now, I’ve got a surprise for you.”
She looks down at the poker chip, her eyes filling with tears, and I know I just made matters worse, not better. Much, much worse. Oh Jesus. I’m an idiot.
I stand and motion to the DJ to tell him to stop, but he doesn’t see me because he’s looking at the fucking piece of paper in his hand—the paper I gave him and asked him to read into his goddamned microphone.
“We unexpectedly have a superstar among us tonight, folks,” the DJ says, reading from my script. “The one and only Rachel Marron.”
People at nearby tables are looking at each other quizzically, clearly not recognizing the name.