Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 114068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
He nudges my knee with his underneath the covers. “But you stuck with it. Remember our motto—perseverance is everything.”
I nod, opening my eyes. “It really is. And today’s win—it hits different for some reason. Like, I suddenly feel like our success isn’t a fluke. We’re not just going to hit it big once with one collection. People are banging on our door, asking for more. Which is how you build a career out of something like this, right? People wanting more of what you’re creating?”
“Absolutely. It’s how you create longevity.”
“Yes.” Yes. “And I think I’m seeing for the first time how we’re not a one-hit wonder. Our success isn’t a fluke. It’s happening for a reason, and that reason is—”
“You were right.” Duke’s blue eyes bore into mine. “You knew you could build a successful business doing something you love.”
My heart flutters. “Yes. Even though everyone told me I couldn’t.”
I was right.
Holy fucking shit, I was right.
Everyone told me I would fall on my face trying to make it as an entrepreneur in the fashion world. But here I am, making a damn good living doing exactly that. Have I loved every minute? Hell no. There were entire years I dreaded going to Mollie’s condo in uptown Dallas to work. I feel like I spent a good chunk of my twenties feeling ashamed to tell people what I did for work when they asked me.
But I couldn’t quit. I knew in my heart of hearts that this is what I wanted to do—be a successful entrepreneur in a creative field. It just took me a lot longer than I thought it would to figure out how to make that happen.
Took me a lot longer than I thought to realize I was doing the right thing.
I want to shout. I want to smile. I want to kiss the shit out of the man beside me.
I do all three, Duke and I giggling like lunatics as we make out.
“I was right,” I keep saying into his kiss. “Duke, I was right.”
“You know what else you were right about?” He takes my hand and guides it to his dick. He’s hard again, his velvety warmth filling my hand.
I give him a pump. “What’s that?”
“Me.” His lips move into a grin against my own. “You knew the night we met you liked me.”
I’m laughing as I toss a leg over his hip and guide him to my center. “Just had to get out of my own way to let you in.”
“Glad you did, sweethe—oh, fuck you feel good.” He glides inside me on a smooth stroke. “You meant that literally, yeah? Letting me in?”
“Ha.”
He rolls on top of me. “So now the question is, Blue—what else are you right about?”
I’m hit by a flood of thoughts—of certainty—as he fucks me to orgasm.
I was right about my ability to teach myself how to be a designer.
I was right that I could learn to run a business too.
I was right to keep going when everyone else told me to quit.
I am right about being lovable. I’m not the problem. Preston is the problem. Dad is the problem. The world is the problem. Perfectionism is the fucking problem.
I. Am. Loved. Look at this man, loving the shit out of me every day and every night. He never lets up. Never wavers in his worship of me and the little life we’re building together.
I am kindhearted. I am messy. I am fun and funny and a joy to be around—most of the time anyway. And when I’m not? That’s okay. That’s called being human.
A feeling bursts through me. It’s light. It’s laughter. It’s an orgasm I can feel in every corner of my being.
I’m going to let Duke all the way in, because I know he’s going to love what he finds.
No more holding back. No more pushing him or anyone else away. I’m moving toward connection now, not running away from it, breaking my own heart before anyone else can.
After we get cleaned up, I head for the kitchen. I play Milli Vanilli on the little speaker by the window above the sink while I make grilled cheese and Duke, who put on his glasses, throws together a salad with the season’s first tomatoes, fresh from Patsy’s garden.
“Wow, that’s good,” Duke says after taking his first bite of grilled cheese. “Just as good as the first time you made it, Blue. Thank you.”
“I always want to make you grilled cheese.” My voice wobbles, but I push forward. “Just like I always want to dance with you to the nineties’ best lip-synched hits.”
Duke’s eyes lock on mine across the table. He smiles. “I love the sound of this.”
“I love you.” A tear slips out of my eye. “So freaking much, baby. It terrifies me to think I could’ve missed out on all this if I’d kept being stupid—kept pushing you away. But I didn’t and now I’m happier than I thought I ever deserved to be. I feel so lucky, and I am so grateful, and—”