Leave Before I Love You – Midnight Read Online Max Monroe

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Erotic, Funny, Virgin Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
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“You’re really good at this,” I say to Avery as the women all stand and move to try on more clothes in the back room.

She shrugs, brushing off the compliment. “It’s just a little something I do for fun.”

“Fun? Avery, you’re basically running a boutique out of someone’s condo. This could be your job if you wanted it to be.”

“Oh no.” She groans. “You’re not going to start all that crap about never working a day in your life if you do what you love again, are you?”

I laugh because she’s funny, but the idea of her being a stylist isn’t funny at all. “I’m serious, Ave. Look at the way they light up when you help them. You have a real gift, and from what I can tell, you seem to enjoy it.”

“Sure, I like it, but it’s not a job. I don’t even charge them.” Just as she says this, the women file back into the room, now dressed to the nines in the outfits Avery picked for them. Their confidence radiates, and I can’t help but feel proud of her.

“Ladies,” I say, addressing the group, “if you don’t mind my asking, how much are you paying my very talented stylist girlfriend for her services?”

“She never lets us pay,” Ethel answers immediately, her eyes narrowing on Avery. “We’ve tried to several times. Between the group of us, we’ve talked about anywhere from five hundred to a thousand an hour.”

I glance at Avery, who just shrugs again, clearly unimpressed by my line of questioning and the answers it’s producing.

Sarabeth agrees. “We’d pay top dollar for Avery’s expertise.”

“She’s worth every penny,” Blanche says, nodding.

“I’d sell my husband’s golf clubs if it meant keeping her around,” Joanne adds with a sly grin.

Avery rolls her eyes but doesn’t hide the secret smile that creeps onto her lips. In that moment, I know in so many ways that this is so much more than lunch booty calls and spicy texts and two weeks on an island. A lot of people would think Avery is superficial, but I know better.

I know what lies beneath the surface, I know her heart, and I know the humor she uses to hide it all. I know all of it.

I know all of her.

And one day, she’s going to be officially, publicly, one hundred percent mine.

February 22nd

Avery

The hum of laughter and the buzz of conversation fill my parents’ backyard. Fairy lights drape from tree to tree, twinkling in the fading sunlight. It’s one of those perfect Miami evenings where the heat isn’t oppressive, just warm enough to keep you outside without complaint, and I don’t know that I’ve ever enjoyed it as much as I am tonight.

The gender reveal party for Beau and June’s second spawn is in full swing. Of course, I already know what they’re having—so do Beau and Henry and my parents and even little Addy—but June is giving her best impression of oblivious, pregnant woman.

Frankly, it’s quite the sight, and I silently wonder if she should’ve considered an acting job in Hollywood with how dedicated she is to this insanity.

Also, it should be noted, she threatened a certain death if any of us even mentioned the word boy before the official gender reveal today.

I’m standing away from the fray of the celebration, taking it all in, a subtle contentment over the last month I’ve spent in secret with Henry making a smile rest permanently on my lips. It’s not like me to stay out of the center of the action and subsequent attention, but for some reason, I’m not feeling like I need it as much these days.

I glance across the pink-and-blue anointed outdoor space at Henry, who stands with Ronnie and Mav about ten feet away shooting the shit, and hide the growing curl of my smile behind my glass of champagne.

My parents have gone all out, as usual, and as a result, it looks like a stork landed here and promptly threw up. A massive balloon arch is set up over the dessert table, and I’m pretty sure my mom ordered enough cupcakes to feed all of Miami.

Family and friends are scattered around. My two sets of grandparents sit on well-cushioned patio chairs, smiling and chatting together. Chef Stone, my parents’ chef, is manning the grill, flipping burgers and kebabs, while my mom runs around making sure everyone has a drink in their hand and a cupcake on their plate. Typical Diane Banks behavior.

“Auntie!” Addy’s little voice breaks through the noise, and I turn to see my niece darting across the lawn like a petite pink tornado.

But she doesn’t run to me, her eyes darting over my shoulder just before she jukes me out. She runs right past me and straight into Henry’s arms.

My heart does a stupid little flip as I watch him crouch down and scoop her up with ease. He’s smiling that easy, crooked smile of his, and Addy giggles as she wraps her tiny arms around his neck.


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