Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 73665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
I can’t believe I just had underground parking sex on the hood of my car with the hottest man alive. But it’s not just that. It’s giving myself to someone so fully while holding them and promising mutual safety, joy, and care.
I know I could love him, and he could love me too.
Despite what the world will say or think. Despite the fact that he was so hurt before that he went years without wanting this with anyone. He makes opening his heart and trusting again look easy, but I can’t even grasp how hard it had to be and probably still is.
I breathe against his neck, my eyes shut, letting the last waves of pleasure roll through me. I want to telegraph to him that I have him. He might be older, stronger, and wiser than I am, but I have him in all the ways I can and can learn. Even strong, powerful men who appear to have it all together need protecting too. They need shelter and love, kindness and goodness.
“That was really nice,” I whisper against his neck, affectionately rubbing the spot beneath his earlobe with my nose and drinking in the bergamot scent of him. I run my fingers through his thick hair until I reach the back of his neck, and I fan my fingers around the broad muscles. “It feels really nice to create safety with you too.”
“Yeah,” he mumbles into my hair, his voice thick.
“It’s exciting.”
“What is?” He smooths his hand over my hair in long strokes.
“Today. Tomorrow. All of it.”
The breath leaves his body in a great sigh, but it’s a good sigh. A sigh that has a lot of feeling. “I’ve never heard anything more beautiful or more accurate.”
I kiss his chin and turn my eyes up to his. They’re shining, a little bit wet, and so full. Just like my own. “Do you want ham now?”
“Is that a metaphor?” he teases.
I laugh so hard that my tears well up and spill down my cheeks. Joyful tears. He brushes them away and kisses the salty paths before peppering soft kisses over my lips.
I shake my head, but this time, I add a bit of mystery along with a tiny shrug. “If you want it to be, it can be all the metaphors ever.”
Chapter seventeen
Rowleigh
Epilogue
Iglance up from swiping a towel over the bar’s top—I’m fastidious about cleanliness—and my eyes lock on the most beautiful woman in the world. I temporarily forget about the towel in my hand, the bar’s sticky top, and the lineup of people crowded around, waiting for their drinks. The lounge might as well be as empty as it was that first night, just me and my piano goddess.
She’s lovely, her back straight, her hands flying over the keys. We changed the direction of the piano, which affords me a view of her side profile. The low light glints off her wire-rim glasses, and her scarlet lips are tilted at the corners. She’s lost in the music, and I’m lost in her.
The music she creates is second only to her beauty. Her kindness somehow flows into her playing, infusing the instrument with the same kindness and graciousness. She’s the kind of person who never has a bad word to say about anyone. Who takes life’s hurts and tries to transform them. She’s the kind of woman who won’t let me throw my life away on a fake marriage.
Three chances. Three wishes.
I didn’t even take all three.
“Hey, Dad. Can you stop ogling my future stepmom and start pouring drinks again?”
I snap my eyes from the piano straight into my daughter’s face. Literally, because she’s leaning over the bar, her striking red hair, dark red eyes, and heavy black makeup moving into my line of vision as she sways even further forward.
“I know you’re thirsty when it comes to my bestie, but I’m thirsty, as in, I’m dying for even a glass of water. Those new chicken wings were spicy! Bellatrix warned me, but I didn’t listen. I can handle spice, I said. I’ll be fine, I said. Well, I’m not fine.” She fans her face, opening her mouth to suck in rapid bursts of air.
“Milk. Not water,” I tell her.
“Excellent idea.”
Once I’ve poured her a glass, she doesn’t move out of the way and let anyone else through. “She’s amazing up there. And all the time,” she gushes.
My throat closes up tight, and I can barely nod. At the table closest to the stage, Bellatrix’s parents lean in. When we first revitalized the lounge, they came to see her play as often as they could. Her mom’s schedule made it hard for her to be here all the time, but her dad never missed a night. She’s been playing three times a week for a few months now, and they still make it every chance they can get.