Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62197 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62197 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Letting out a frustrated growl, I shot up off the bed and slammed the lid to the jewelry box closed.
“Damn you, Ransom,” I muttered at the item, then snatched up my phone while wiping my wet cheeks with my hand and headed for the kitchen.
I was almost to my coffee maker when my phone rang, and like an idiot, I flipped it over to look at it while my heart picked up its pace. Unknown flashed on the screen, and I paused before hitting Answer.
“Hello,” I said, trying to tamp down the hope that this was Ransom blossoming in my chest.
No one said anything. I pulled the phone back and glanced at it to be sure the call hadn’t been dropped. It was active. Someone was on the other line. Or maybe it was a spam call and the recording hadn’t started yet.
I waited. A minute went by as I stared at the clock on the microwave. Nothing. I looked again, and the call still hadn’t ended.
“Hello?” I repeated, knowing I should hang up, but my stupid need for this to be Ransom stopped me.
“It’s your fault,” the same voice that had called before said.
Frowning, I started to ask what was, but the call ended. Slowly, I laid the phone down on the counter and moved away from it, as if it were the cause of the odd calls I’d received.
My phone lit up again, and I started to take another step back, as if it were going to harm me, but Jellie’s name appeared, along with a text. Letting out a sigh, I moved back to the counter and slid my finger over the screen to read what she had said.
Jellie: I asked for one thing. ONE SIMPLE thing. The sandcastle Jellycat. I even sent him a picture of it! It wasn’t a freaking diamond or designer purse. IT WAS A JELLYCAT! Why is he so slow? What do I need to do to this man in order to get the point across when I want something? Do you know what he got me? A toaster! He bought me a freaking toaster. Apparently, I said it was cute or something! And it is! But I don’t want a toaster for Christmas!!! What am I, eighty?
You’d have thought by now that he’d know that those silly stuffed animals that shared her name was all it took to make her happy. He’d probably paid too much for whatever cute toaster he bought. I was a little curious about what kind it was and what it looked like. But I didn’t ask for a picture just yet. She wasn’t done venting.
Me: Men. They need more than pictures. They need you to tell them things.
As if I was one to give any advice on men.
Her dots appeared as she began typing, and I set the phone back down, knowing this was going to be a long one. Moving over to the coffee maker, I started to make a cup while I gave her time to respond. Once I had it going, I glanced back at my screen to see that she’d sent another one.
Jellie: He is mad now! Because I wanted the Jellycat! He said I was impossible to please! SERIOUSLY! I am moving to Manhattan. We will be roommates and grow old together. Screw men! We don’t need them. You just have to buy me the damn Jellycat I want when it’s a holiday.
I’d needed a distraction, and Jellie was good at that.
Me: Deal. But you’re not getting my office. You’ll have to take the guest bedroom.
I waited for her response, doing my best to focus on this and not Ransom. Or his damn necklace.
The phone started to ring, and Jellie’s name lit up the screen.
I hit Answer and put it on speaker.
“Yesss?” I drawled out.
“That is the smallest room in your apartment! You would really stick me in that tiny bedroom?! I thought we were best friends?”
“Hmm … we are, but my love only goes so far,” I replied, then took a sip of my coffee.
“You’re an evil woman. How are we friends?” she shot back at me.
“Because you love me and can’t live without me.”
She sighed heavily. “Yes, and the two people I love most suck. Unless you will buy me the sandcastle Jellycat.”
I chuckled and set my cup down on the counter before reaching for a gluten-free bagel that I’d bought from the deli yesterday.
“Why can’t you buy the thing?” I asked.
“Because I need a story to go with it!”
“A story?” I asked, confused.
“Yes, a story. All my Jellycats have a story. Who gave it to me and when. Like the Christmas tree one Mom sent me when she found out I didn’t have a tree up last year in my apartment. Or the to-go coffee one you gave me for my birthday last year. And when his ass ever gets around to proposing, I want the engagement ring Jellycat! If he forgets that, I am turning him down.”