Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 121210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Slowly, she turns her head toward me, and when she meets my eyes, my face cracks into a smile.
I’m prepared to have her tell me I’m an asshole and roll her eyes or some shit, but I’m not prepared to hear the most beautiful wave of laughter roll out of her lungs.
“Oh my God!” she laughs. “You’re such a pervert!”
“What?” I’m still smiling like a loon but trying to act confused as I do. “I just thought I’d tell you because I know how good you are making people face their fears.”
This time, she rolls her eyes, but she’s still laughing. “Clay.”
“Just sayin’, Josie. You have a true knack for it.”
She reaches out to slap a playful arm against my shoulder. “Shut up.”
I feel like I just won ten gold medals and a Noble Prize and an Oscar at the same time, seeing that smile on her face and hearing that laugh of hers that I’ve missed so much. I’m high on fucking life, and I’m only emboldened further to spend more time with her. To get more moments where I get to hear happiness vibrate from her lips.
“Come have a drink with me, Josie.”
“No.” Her answer is instant, but she’s still smiling.
“Please, come have a drink with me?” I request, and she looks away for a long moment before meeting my eyes again.
“Why?” she eventually asks, and I decide to go for broke.
“Because I want to spend the rest of the night making you laugh like that.”
“Oh, so there’s a promise of entertainment?” she questions, and since it’s not a “fuck off,” I only take it as a good sign.
“You have my word.”
She doesn’t say no. She doesn’t say yes. But she does nod and stand up from her chair. “My tab better be on the house.”
Hell yes.
62
Josie
Monday, July 4th
I don’t know what time it is, and I don’t know how many glasses of wine I’ve had, but I do know that this is probably a big, big mistake, agreeing to have a drink with Clay.
The Country Club is closed down for the Fourth of July, but the two of us sit at the bar, fresh off our fourth game of pool, and Clay has the audacity to still be surprised that I can kick his ass.
“What’s the secret, Josie?” he asks, taking a sip of his beer. “You spending your free time in pool houses? Are you in some kind of underground pool shark ring?”
“Maybe you just really suck and I’m just really good.”
He laughs at that. “Woman, I swear, it’s one of the world’s biggest mysteries how you can be so fucking good at pool.”
“Pool isn’t the only thing I’m good at,” I say before I can take it back. Before I can stop myself from turning our currently innocent conversation into something that’s laced with a little bit of sex. But those words do just that. Not only because of the innuendo but because of the way I deliver them. It’s sick and twisted that I would even toy with that line with Clay, but I’m blaming it on the wine. And I’m also hoping he’s too filled with beer to notice.
“Oh, I know,” he says and flashes a wink at me. “I know you are.”
He clearly did notice, and I immediately busy myself with another drink of wine. Which, yeah, not the best plan, I know.
“Will you finally file the divorce papers?” I blurt out in a rush. My mouth is still moving faster than my brain to realize how awful that sounds after we’ve just spent the last few hours chatting and laughing and having fun.
“Who says I haven’t already done it?” Clay tosses back, and I just about fall out of my chair.
“Wait…” I pause, searching his eyes. “Have you filed them?”
“Are you hoping I did?”
My answer to that question should be a direct, Yes, Clay. I want you to file them. But instead, I just sit there, staring at him. Our eyes are locked, and I can’t seem to find a way out of his depths of brown. It’s like I’m stuck here, inside his gaze, without an exit strategy.
“Josie,” he whispers my name and reaches out to gently place his hand on my face. His hand is big and his skin is warm, and it’s like the only thing my body wants to do is lean into his touch.
And that’s exactly what I do. I lean into him, pressing my cheek into his palm, while our gazes stay sealed together in a way I can’t bring myself to let go of.
“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers, and he edges his body closer to mine. “Missed you more than you’ll probably ever realize.”
I’ve missed him, too. So much. So fucking much.
His mouth is moving closer to mine, and I’m not pulling away. I’m just sitting here, arching into his touch, and leaving myself open for his kiss.