Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
She sighs softly in her sleep. Doing my best to not disturb her, I slide off the sofa. I head into the kitchen and search for the coffee supplies. I’ve almost got it started when she comes into the room, sleepily rubbing her eyes.
“Coffee,” she grumbles.
“I’m making it right now.” Everything was easy to find because Isabelle organizes it just like a chef would.
Anabelle pulls out a chair and takes a seat at the kitchen table. “So do you drink super-strong coffee like they do in Italy?”
I lean against the kitchen counter because if I get too close to her, I might do more than talk. “I make a slightly stronger roast, but no, I don’t drink espresso. I know it’s not how you expected today to go, but Merry Christmas, Anabelle.”
She smiles gently and replies, “Merry Christmas, Fabio.”
There’s an awkward silence because we’re standing too far apart and neither of us are crossing that distance. I’d pin her to the nearest surface and kiss her fucking senseless if I knew that’s what she really wanted, but she seems nervous. “Do you think we can get to your brother’s home today?”
“I hope so. It might be a day late, but we’ll still be able to celebrate by tonight. I’ll need to shovel out my vehicle, though.” That’s a daunting task considering this isn’t my home and I don’t know if they have the proper tools. For all I know they hire a local kid or a service to shovel or plow their driveway.
“We have a few shovels in the garage.” I’m taken by surprise, but then again, Isabelle did need shoulder surgery because she had too much nerve damage.
“Thanks. I have one in my trunk, but I’m guessing it’s buried.” Living where it snows heavily every year, it’s a smart thing to have because you never know when you come out of work if you have to dig yourself out. “Would you like some breakfast?”
“No. I just need some coffee. I fell asleep right after we ate.”
“Yeah, I don’t think I made it far in the movie.”
“I didn’t get to the part where they switched houses. That pasta was delicious and filling.”
“Carb coma. I understand completely, but your sister deserves most of the credit. It was her sauce that I added to and I’m a little put out that she kept that one a secret.”
“Speaking of work, I need to work for a bit.”
“It’s Christmas,” I say.
“Yes, but since I’m taking off for a couple of days, I need to do what I can in advance.”
“That’s true. We open the restaurants on the twenty-seventh. Although, I’ll have to notify Andre that he’ll be head chef now.”
“What? What about Isabelle?”
“Do you think he’s going to let her out of his clutches?”
“No, probably not.” She giggles, and I wonder how she’d feel if I captured her in my condo and kept her there until we bought our own house. “What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing important.”
“Well, excuse me. I need my coffee.” She takes a cup from the hooks and pours a cup with a bit of sugar and a drop of creamer before walking out of the room. I make my cup and follow to see her sitting with her legs crossed under her and tablet on her lap. She’s making notes when I ask, “Have you seen my phone?”
“No. Do you want me to call it?” she asks, but I shake my head. She’s working, and I shouldn’t bother her with it.
“Maybe I left it in the kitchen.” I head in there, but then I hear the ringtone I set for her call. “Teeth” by 5 Seconds of Summer.
I get out there and see she’s staring at my phone, knowing damn well I’m busted. It’s a stolen picture of her with the Caller ID reading Wife calling.
She ends the call and then calmly says, “It was in the cushions.”
“Thanks.” I take it with shaky hands. Her phone takes that moment to ring, distracting us from that conversation.
“I have to take this.”
“I’ll be out shoveling.” An hour later, I think my balls have permanently shriveled up and burrowed up into my stomach.
“A cup of coffee?” Anabelle offers as I walk in. I take it, making sure not to touch her hands so she doesn’t get cold, but then I kiss her nose. “Holy fuck, you’re a popsicle.”
“Well, at least we’ll be ready to go in an hour.”
“That’s great news. And speaking of great news—Franco and Isabelle are getting married.”
“Fuck, yeah! Our plan worked.”
“Your plan. I was just your little assistant,” she says, but I’m not letting that stand for one minute.
“You’re so much more than that to me.” I kiss her gently after taking off all my wet things. “Are you still working?”
“Yes. I need another hour, and then I can take my stuff with me and work while we’re on the road.”