Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 40554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 203(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 203(@200wpm)___ 162(@250wpm)___ 135(@300wpm)
Chapter Nineteen
TRULY
It's endearing how Blake gushes over me to people. A few even said that it was about time they'd met me. I'm not fully sure if they mean because Blake has spoken about me so much or simply because they know who I am in general. The city isn't as big as people believe it to be. Not when it comes to social circles.
"You're popular," I tell him when we finally get to our table.
"It's you that they are curious to speak to." Blake pulls my chair out for me.
"Everyone has been very nice."
"As they should." I don't miss the protectiveness of his tone.
It's all making my head spin. I had shoved a lot of stuff Mabel had said to me to the back of my mind. She doesn't know Blake the way I do. That's what I told myself, but I've been paying attention to everything.
He's so attentive, but he is still working a lot. I was under the impression that he was downsizing or getting out of any entanglements with our family, but now I'm not sure if that's true. A few of the comments people have said have me speculating once again. I hate that I’m having this internal turmoil when it comes to him. It doesn’t feel right.
It wasn't only the one about him opening another branch. Another man had mentioned something about a new investment.
When a server delivers a glass of champagne to everyone at the table as they begin to serve the first round of food, I reach for it and bring it to my lips. The liquid barely hits my tongue when another thought dawns on me. I could be pregnant. I’m not on anything, and we haven’t been using protection. It’s not really far-fetched that I could be. I set the glass back down.
Blake's brows rise at me in question. I shrug and take a sip of water. What if I am pregnant? I can’t help but slip my hand down to my stomach. A million questions flood my thoughts. It's hard to make small talk with others at the table with my mind spinning, but I do my best to remain present in the conversation.
I don't know if it's in my head or real, but my stomach starts to get queasy.
“What’s wrong?” Blake immediately asks. I love how well he can read me. If he weren’t truly invested in this marriage, would he even bother to get to know me so well? Then again, when Blake does anything, it’s not half-assed.
“I need to use the ladies’ room,” I tell him before excusing myself from the table.
“I’ll walk with you.” Blake stands before I can, pulling my chair out for me in the process.
“You’re really here,” a woman says, appearing next to us. Blake gives her a real smile. It takes me a second, but I realize this is the woman from the picture. The lawyer at the hotel bar. "I'm Lauren."
"The lawyer."
"That's all you've ever said about me?" She gives Blake a pointed stare. One I bet she gives to people on the witness stand. I'd be giving up my secrets if it were me.
"Lauren, this is my wife, Truly." He formally introduces us.
"We go way back," she tells me, offering me her hand. I take it.
"It's nice to meet you too," I tell her. I'm not sure if I mean it. I can't stop the jealousy I'm feeling. It's not only that she's beautiful and that they'd hung out in a hotel bar but also that she said they go way back. She knows Blake in ways that I don’t.
He and I go way back too, or we did. There is so much I don't know. "Here, take my chair," I tell Lauren. "I'm going to run to the bathroom really quick."
"I was going to walk you." Blake rushes to stop this from happening.
"He's obsessed with me. I can't even go to the bathroom now," I joke, but I know I said it partly out of jealousy, which Lauren shouldn't be getting from me.
She laughs. "Let the girl use the bathroom. I actually wanted to talk to you about that email you sent me," Lauren says, making Blake's expression grow serious.
"Fine." Blake presses a kiss to my lips before finally releasing his hold on me.
It's then, as I walk away from the table, that I see how many people are watching us but trying to pretend not to. I see a few people whispering together, not great at hiding that they are gossiping, and maybe they aren't trying to hide it.
When I make it to the bathroom, I let out a small breath of relief. I should be used to these kinds of events, but it's been a long time. I don't miss them; in fact, it's a reminder of how much I don't care for them.