Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Damn. I’ve dropped two spots in the past month. I need to up my friendship game with the little lady in my life.
“I’ll take it,” I say what I always do when I rank behind her school buddies.
With the smile still on her face, she says the words that make everything right in my world, “I love you, Daddy. With every part of my heart.”
I pinch her chin. “I love you with every part of my heart, too.”
“I’m a lucky ducky.” She laughs. “You are, too.”
She’s got that right.
CHAPTER THREE
Carrie
“If I could rearrange the letters in the alphabet, you would always be by my side.” Telford sighs. “Wait. No.”
I glance to where he’s on bended knee, less than two feet from where I’m standing. “I think you meant to say you’d put you and I next to each other forever.”
I punctuate that by miming writing the letter U followed by a capital I in the air.
“That’s it!” Glee lights up his expression. “That’s the winner, Carrie. It is, right?”
“Wrong,” I burst his happiness bubble with one word. “It’s not you, Tel.”
“It’s I,” he jokes. “See what I did there? You and I?”
I look past him to the kitchen in my apartment. “Are we cooking tonight, or should I order in?”
His gaze tracks the same path as mine. “You have that fancy stove, and I know you bought groceries yesterday, so cooking wins.”
“All I bought was milk, cereal, and some fruit,” I point out. “I thought Abby and I would get together after work today, so I didn’t plan a dinner menu.”
His hands jump out to his sides. “So I’m second choice? Again, Carrie?”
I laugh. “As if you’re surprised. She has dinner plans with Declan tonight, and she mentioned after that, they’re going to see our folks to share some big news. She asked if I wanted to tagalong for the big news portion of the evening, but I passed because I want all of the focus to be on them. We rain checked until tomorrow, so in the end it all worked out.”
He ignores me in favor of the screen of his phone, which he’s staring intently at. “Mr. Black wants to see us tomorrow morning.”
“What?” I yank my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans.
As soon as I walked into my apartment two hours ago, I was in the shower. Then I tugged on a pair of jeans and an old sweatshirt. Comfort is the key to a great evening in my books.
I open my email app and immediately spot the message I’m looking for.
Nolan Black, CEO of Matiz Cosmetics, has emailed both of us.
The subject line is simple and to the point: Meeting at 9 a.m. tomorrow.
The rest of the message doesn’t give anything away. It reiterates the time and adds the place. Mr. Black’s office, which is in the same building we work in.
“It’s good news,” I say to rally myself and Tel.
“It has to be.” He nods without a hint of reassurance in his tone. “Our samples were scentsational.”
I laugh at that because I always do.
Telford first used the term ‘scentsational’ the day we met, which happened to be the same day we started working together. That was almost two years ago.
“They were really good, Tel.” I smile. “I think he’ll tell us that we’ve created the new signature scent for next spring’s line.”
“You think?” He pushes his phone back into the pocket of his blue pants. “Are you sure enough that you’re willing to celebrate that tonight?”
I’m not, but I know Telford needs me to be the positive voice in the room, so I nod again. “I’m sure. I’ll order pizza and a bottle of champagne to toast to it.”
He rubs his chin. “Just get the pizza, Carrie. We’ll indulge in champagne at your sister’s wedding. That’s only four days away now.”
I knew inviting Tel to be my plus one was the right move. He’ll keep me company while Abby’s wish of marrying the man of her dreams comes true.
“We’ll save the alcohol for after the I do’s,” I agree with a sigh. “I’m ordering one of those dessert pizzas, though. The one with the hazelnut spread, caramel sauce, and candied coconut.”
“You might as well pour a cup of sugar down your throat,” Telford remarks. “You’ll get the same result.”
“I wouldn’t enjoy that nearly as much.” I wink at him. “While we wait for the pizza, you can think about what you’ll wear to our meeting with Mr. Black tomorrow.”
Telford looks at me, his expression wrinkled in confusion. “I’ll wear this.”
I glance at his attire. It’s always the same except for the color of his pants. Telford’s small closet in his cramped one bedroom apartment is neatly arranged with a row of pressed white button-down shirts and five pairs of the same pants in varying shades of brown and blue.