Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 116231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
“Who runs the world?” I sing out and she follows with, “Girls?”
“You know it!” I shout back. “Are we watching what we are eating this week, or are we full-blown give me a bacon cheeseburger with onion rings and fries?”
“Ohhh.” I hear her tapping her nail on her desk. “We did work out this morning,” she mentions the morning Pilates class we took before coming to work.
“So burgers it is.” I open my app. “I’m ordering two bacon cheeseburgers and a side of onion rings and fries for us to share.”
“Sounds good,” she agrees. I place the order before I put down the phone and then look back at my computer. I’m going through the emails and making lists of shelters and churches I would like to go and visit, to see if we should partner with them.
Thirty-five minutes later, the door to the office opens and the delivery man sets the brown bag on the desk in front. I push away from my desk and walk out of my office at the same time Lexi walks out of hers. “Where are your notes?” She looks at my empty hands.
“I can’t read notes and eat a greasy cheeseburger, Lexi,” I scoff at her, walking to the brown bag and then heading over to the couch area, kicking off my heels, and putting one foot under me.
“That would be irresponsible.”
“Fine.” She turns and heads back to her office, tossing her folder back on her desk before coming out. “It smells so good.”
“Doesn’t it?” I open the bag and pull out a fry before popping it into my mouth then an onion ring. Lexi grabs one of those before I hand her a burger and then take one for myself. I grab the little packets of ketchup and ranch before flattening out the brown bag and emptying the French fries and the onion rings next to each other.
I unwrap the burger and take a bite. “So what are your plans this weekend?” I ask her and she smiles.
“Kirby gets home tonight, and he has a game tomorrow, and then he’s off for two whole days.” She smiles big. “I know the season just started, but I’m already over him leaving,” she says sadly.
“Two whole days,” I repeat the words she just said with as much enthusiasm as she did.
She nods. “Like, I was looking forward to him leaving at the beginning because I had all these things planned, but then I just missed him, you know?” She takes a bite of her burger.
“No, I don’t know.” I laugh as I open a packet of ketchup and fill the corner of the bag with it, dipping a French fry in it. “How would I know? I think my longest relationship was two weeks, maybe a month, and I felt like I was being suffocated.”
“A month.” She gawks. “A month?”
“Yeah,” I reply, taking another bite, “maybe a month and a day.”
“I have food in the fridge longer than that.”
“That’s disgusting,” I point out to her as we eat. “I’m just not a relationship type of girl.” I shrug as I say it, my stomach clenching.
“You are that type of girl.” She picks up a French fry and points it at me. “You just won’t let yourself be that type of girl.”
“I’m really not. I like to do my own thing and not have to worry about someone else. I spent my whole life worried about someone else,” I mention my stepfather. “I’m over it.”
“It’s not always like that,” she counters, and she, out of anyone in the world, understands.
“My therapist says I have to take things in baby steps.” I hold out both hands. “She should know, she’s qualified to tell me how challenged I am.”
“She said take things in baby steps?” she asks me. “Like snail baby steps or like human baby steps?”
“It’ll happen, I guess, when it’s supposed to happen.”
“It’s not going to knock on your door and be like, ‘Hi, I’m here answering your ad that you placed in the universe.’” She shakes her head. “In order for you to find someone, you have to put yourself out there.”
“Hey, I was on that dating app for a solid six months,” I defend myself, “and what did it get me?” I wait for her to answer. “It got me a man who said he was self-employed.” I look at her. “He literally didn’t know what that meant. He said he was dabbling with a couple of things.” I stop to take another bite of my burger. “And then this guy took me to his house and his mother is sitting on the couch, watching Jeopardy.”
“Houses in California are expensive,” she tries to defend him.
“He was thirty-five,” I shriek, “and he borrowed the car from his mother!”
“I’m sure they are all not like that,” she says softly.