Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97409 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97409 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
I pull the fans out of the boxes, fill one up with water and a couple of ice cubes, and plug it in. I then start breaking down the boxes.
“What is that?” She’s standing behind me. I hadn’t heard the shower turn off. Her blonde hair is down, wet, and brushed back. She has not a lick of makeup on, and her eyes are a color I don’t think I’ve ever seen in my life—gray on the outside with a yellow in the middle—but when she looks at the fan and then back at me, they seem green. That day in the bakery, they looked blue. They are mesmerizing.
“I got you these. Figured you could put one in the kitchen and then take one to your bedroom. It’s the newest on the market. It’s like air-conditioning without the hose for outside. Brings in the heat from one side, and with the water, it turns it into cold air.” I look at the fan. “I’m not sure how it works, but it’ll do until I can get someone in here to install a system.”
She holds up her hand at me. “I’m sorry, what system?”
“This house is a furnace. Probably because the insulation isn’t what it should be. I’m going to go out on a limb and say you probably won’t let me insulate it properly, so I’m compromising.” I can see on her face that I have to go slow. She’s got a wall around her that is so high it’s going to take everything I have to knock it down.
“You’re compromising by buying me an air-conditioning unit?”
“Yes.” I start the microwave. “I made steak. I would have texted to ask you if you like steak, but I don’t have your number.” The microwave beeps, and I open the door. “Not sure if this is warm enough, but if not, we can zap it some more.” I look at the container. “I should have just cooked the steak here.” I close my eyes. “Next time.”
“Next time?”
“Yes, next time.” I put the container on the table and pull out the chair. “I’m going to be in this, Collins.” She stares at me. “I want to do this. I’m going to be a part of our child’s life, that’s nonnegotiable.” I swallow the lump down. “Part of your life too. That we can negotiate, but I’m really fucking hoping you’ll have me.”
CHAPTER TEN
COLLINS
I stare at him, listening to his words. My head’s already spinning with the fact that he bought me two fans. Something I know I won’t be able to fucking pay him back for, and if that wasn’t enough, he just told me he’s having an air conditioner installed.
“Next time?” That’s the only thing I can say about everything he’s thrown at me.
“Yes, next time.” He puts the container on the table and then pulls out the chair for me. He’s brought a grilled steak and steamed veggies. My mouth waters. “I want to do this. I’m going to be a part of our child’s life, that’s nonnegotiable. Part of your life too. That we can negotiate, but I’m really fucking hoping you’ll have me.”
The emotion washes over me like a wave hitting sand. “You really don’t have to do this.”
“Collins, sit. And eat.”
I sit as he fills a glass of water for me from the pitcher in the fridge. The cold air from the fan hits me right away, and I look up, seeing it moving side to side.
“Theo. How much were the fans?” Maybe I can start a list of what I owe him, in case I win the lottery.
“Why does it matter?” He sets the glass in front of me and pulls out the same chair he sat in last night. Exactly like last night, he puts his arm around the other chair. The light-gray T-shirt pulls over his chest. I grab the steak knife and fork and focus on cutting a piece, trying not to lust over him. Focus, Collins, focus.
“It matters to me.” I chew. The piece of steak melts like butter in my mouth. “I don’t want to owe anyone.”
“Good, because you aren’t going to owe me anything. You’re carrying my child.” My eyebrows immediately go up, and he corrects himself, “Our child. Let me help.”
I study the edge of my plate, not sure I’m up for this talk. Tonight kicked my ass. I’ve never been more tired in my life. It felt like every single muscle in my body was aching, and if I had the choice, I would sleep for a full two days straight.
“You’re tired.” I’m not sure if he’s asking me or telling me.
“Yeah.” I want to kick myself for admitting it. “But it’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. I was able to nap today for almost an hour between calls.”
“I’ll get out of your hair”—he gets up and walks over to the second fan—“as soon as I put this fan in your room.”