One hundred and eighty.

That's how many times I've thought about Kim. Roughly twice a day where I sit, let my mind wander to her cute as a button face, her fucking hot body, and her delectable curves. Twice a day where I sit back and dream of one day fucking her again. Of holding her in my arms and squeezing that tight fucking ass. Of biting those nipples and running my cock between those tits. Of cumming all over that svelte and slender body and then making her lick it up. Of seeing her fat lips wrapped around my cock - just like a good little sister should do. Yeah, it's no wonder I had to go to Europe to get my shit together. Otherwise I would have given up on Day fucking One.

Six thousand.

That's how many dollars a last minute business class flight costs from New York's JFK Airport to London Heathrow. I left that night, after putting Kim to bed. I went home and packed my shit and called my travel agent.

Once in London, I called my Dad.

"Time to clean up my life, Pops," I said into the phone.

"What changed?" was his only question. I mean, he knew not to look a gift horse in the fucking mouth.

"Girl," I said. Yeah. our conversations were pretty fucking terse.

"Have I met her?" he asked me.

I smiled to myself and said, "You married her fucking mom."

There was a pause on the other end of the line and then Dad asked me. "You love her, son?"

"I do," I told him. "I had to get away to clean the fuck up."

I could almost hear him nodding on the other side.

"Talk to my friend Alastair Reynolds," Dad said. "He'll get you sorted."

Three.

That's how many hours later I made it to the office of Alastair Reynolds - a Managing Director with Carter Jeffries' London office.

"Joseph Brooks sent me," I said as I sat down in his office.

"Ah yes, the prodigal son," Alastair replied, leaning back.

Alastair was a fat man, with a round and jolly face that was always pink. He was about 5' 9" and I towered over him. But he didn't let on that fact at all. Instead, he put me to work.

"You'll be assisting the currency traders who trade the LIBOR," he said to me as he walked me around. "You'll be paid on commissions from the profits your team makes."

Which means if we fucked up, I wouldn't get paid shit.

Bad time to let you know I only took $5,000 in cash and left all the credit cards at home?

Ten.

That's how many certification exams I had to study for during the last three months.

"You don't need a degree to trade currencies, Cody," Alastair told me one day as I was complaining about the tests. "But various governments will require that you study and pass those exams. They don't want financial chaos."

Sixteen.

That was the typical workday. Up at 6 am. At work by 7. Study for exams till 9. First trades start coming in at 9:01 am. Work like a fucking dog all day till 9 pm. Maybe find fifteen minutes to scarf down some lunch and some coffee. And then when the evening shift left at 9 pm, I had to stay an extra hour to clear up the day and get the platforms all ready for the next morning. Make sure all open trades were accounted for. No one else was working as hard as me.

Zero.

That's the number of times I complained. This is exactly what I needed. This is exactly what I wanted. I had to build street cred and I had to do it fucking fast. Because I couldn't stay in London forever. I had to take my FOREX exams - all ten of them and get back to New York. To be with fucking Kim.

One hundred.

That's the percentages of exams that I passed.

I know. You heard that right. Passed.

I mean, some were close. Don't get me wrong. But for the last three months, the number of books I've been hitting and the amount of time I've been spending studying has been more than at any point in my life.

I mean, I'm fucking intelligent if I try and apply myself, you know? It's just that in New York, I never had any incentive to. If you had asked me to study like this in New York, I would have told you to get the fuck out.

But then Kim came.

And all of a sudden I had a big fucking reason to get my shit together.

Seven.

That's how many hours I've been back in New York.

I dropped my bags in my apartment and came straight to Dad's office.

"I've been waiting for this day for a long time, Cody," he told me earlier today. "I'm proud of everything you've accomplished over the last three months, son. You did something not too many other people would be able to pull off. You turned your life around."

I nod. I'm wearing a conservative black suit as befits the surroundings.

"You'll be leading up one of the currency trading desks we have," Dad tells me as we walk through the trading floor later on that day towards his office. "I'm sure if you exhibit the same drive as you did the last three months, you'll be moving up soon enough."

I nod to him and get to work.

I know, I could probably take the day off considering I just started. But I want to get off on the right foot. Do a good job. And do better than anyone else.

To make Kim proud.

Four.

That's what time it is right now as I walk towards Dad's office. We have a meeting to go over first quarter goals.

I'm heading there when I see a familiar shape in his office.

That ass.

I dream about it every fucking night.

That voice.

It lulls me to sleep.

I was supposed to surprise her tomorrow.

But she's already here.

I can't help it.

"And why is that?" my Dad asks Kim.

"Because I love him," she says to him.

I can't help myself.

I reach out and touch her on the shoulder.