Page 35 of Finding Jack
EMILY: …
JACK: HAHAHA why would anyone ask that no reason next question
EMILY: Sorry. It’s just that I’m a planner so I pick pretty convenient locations to bury bodies.
JACK: Understood. Then let’s go with…an expression you would ban from English forever.
EMILY: “At the end of the day.”
JACK: Amen.
EMILY: You would ban amen?
JACK: No, I meant at the end of the day, I agree with you.
EMILY: You’re not funny.
JACK: I am.
EMILY: FINE. A little bit.
I stretched my fingers and yawned, realizing I’d been sitting so long that I had a trigger spot throbbing near my shoulder blade. I flicked a glance down to the time. It was almost eleven. Holy…
EMILY: Didn’t realize it was so late. I have to go, but not until you tell me your answer. What phrase would you ban forever?
JACK: “I have to go.”
My heart turned a tiny bit melty. Well-played, Jack Dobson. Well-played.
Chapter 14
It was weird to wake up and grab my phone first thing not to check my work email but to see if Jack had messaged me. But that’s what happened the rest of the week. Every single morning. And every single morning, he had. And I’d smile and write back.
I didn’t have time for any long exchanges so mostly I sent gifs of people drowning in paperwork, fighting tornados, anthills in crisis, and anything else to represent job chaos and Jack sent seagull gifs.
We’d picked up a new client that meant a massive amount of overtime for my team as we worked like said ants to integrate our software with their systems. I got home late every night, worked some more, and fell asleep exhausted, but it was funny how fast those morning exchanges became a part of my routine. They were almost better than coffee for waking me up.
Fine. They were better than coffee.
On Saturday morning, I slept in a whole hour and had my phone in my hand before I was even fully awake. Jack had sent a picture of a seagull doing a yoga child’s pose to the sun and a message: “Good morning, sunshine.”
EMILY: A yoga seagull? Mad talent.
JACK: Don’t know if I can explain how hard that was. I know I make this look easy, but imagine a weightlifter doing lifts with popped out veins and bulging eyes and that was pretty much me with Photoshop last night.
EMILY: I’m honored.
JACK: I just realized how pathetic I made my Friday night sound. Please say you did something better.
EMILY: Is falling asleep at 8:00 and waking to this on my nightstand “better”?
I sent him a picture of a Haagen-Dazs pint I had only half finished before nodding off. Now it was a melted and congealed chocolate mess.
JACK:
EMILY:
JACK: But how is it possible that this is your Friday night? I thought maybe you went out and had wild nights on the town with Ranée, or…
