Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 108862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
You can say we get a lot dirtier before we ever get clean.
“Thanks for saving me some money on my water bill tonight,” I tease later when I’m heading out the door.
“Not paying it anyway,” he says back, arms folded, leaning on the wall as he watches me go.
I lie in bed that night with a big smile on my face, thumbing through my phone as I hum to myself, clearing notifications. I get another condescending email from Grant Bellamy, whose event is (finally) coming up soon, but for whom I will never do enough. But tonight, I feel unspeakably immune to his taunting, even if it’s just a particular arrangement of words in an email, no actual tone of voice existing, only implied. I set him aside for the morning and turn my face to the window. All I see is the fence that separates our backyards, but I feel Diego as if he might as well be holding me from behind, clutched against his strong body.
Breathing in my ear.
I wonder if he snores.
Then I wonder if I snore.
Is it too soon to sleep over at one another’s house? Or is Diego too afraid Mrs. “Patty” Parker will spot us from halfway down the street and share the news with her Thursday afternoon book club?
For some reason, that thought lingers with me long into the next day. I’m at the counter of the flower shop picking at my nails, a dozen tasks I could be getting done, but all I’m doing is staring ahead thinking about the most absurd things.
Like Diego and I holding hands.
Taking a walk together around town.
Him showing up at my doorstep with a bouquet of flowers.
Suddenly I burst out laughing. Uncontrollable laughter. I can’t stop myself for a solid minute, even covering my mouth.
Good thing I have no customers right now. They’d probably think my last screw hit the floor.
Then I wonder why I found that so funny. Is it such an absurd thought? I made us dinner last night. He enjoyed it and didn’t kick me out. Just because he doesn’t show his feelings doesn’t mean he has none, right? What if this is normal for him? What if he doesn’t do relationships?
I can handle that, right?
This can just be a casual thing.
A casual getting nailed by my former neighbor’s hot nephew thing.
Then I think about what Nadine said yesterday while we were busy not discussing her garden. How if Diego is anything like his aunt and uncle, then he’s fiercely loyal too. Absolutely nothing he’s done provides evidence to the contrary.
So what is this between us? A casual thing? Or a serious one?
Can something casual … also be serious …?
Jacky-Ann stops by just before closing to pick out a birthday gift for Nadine’s husband Paul, but can’t quite make up her mind, and everything I suggest is “totally lovely but just not quite right”. Also, the gift isn’t from Jacky-Ann. It’s from Nadine. Nadine is way too busy planning Paul’s surprise birthday dinner taking place out on his brother’s ranch to get him a gift, too, and she was totally planning on asking me about it yesterday but naturally forgot.
A potted citrus tree is almost the clear winner until Jacky-Ann sighs and says, “It’s beautiful but feels like homework to deal with, doesn’t it? Like we’re giving him chores.” We pivot to a potential custom handcrafted orchid arrangement. Elegant. Just a tad pricy. Something a mayor would totally get her husband. But when we get to the register, she says, “But it’s so fragile. What if Paul kills it? What’ll Nadine think? Is that symbolic in the wrong way?” So we try a curated birthday bouquet in his favorite colors. “Too casual.” We try a small flowering bonsai. “Paul’s gonna think Nadine gave him a tiny tree and is tryin’ to say somethin’ about somethin’.”
After keeping me forty-four minutes past closing, she settles on a garden-themed coffee table book and a jar of artisanal honey.
“Nadine’s been trying to get Paul to read, and who doesn’t like honey? That’s one thing we could use more of in this town. Honey! Bees! This is just perfect. Perfect, perfect, perfect … I think.”
Then she adds the birthday bouquet back in.
And a second jar of honey.
I suspect she’s getting the second honey for herself.
By the time she goes, I’m rubbing the back of my neck like no one’s business, working out a crick. I lock up and drive home while fighting off a stubborn yawn, then seem to hit a crowd of people trying to cross the road at every intersection.
Pulling up to my house, I see Diego under the hood, working hard. He doesn’t look up when I park my car and get out. I quietly approach, still rubbing my neck. Still doesn’t look up. I stand right by him, watching as he tinkers away.