Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
“I don’t know about that,” she murmurs. “What makes you say that?”
Yeah, Rhett, what exactly are you talking about?
It’s her past. Obviously. The secret I’m holding. I think about what Mira said earlier—about living in the dream a while longer—and look out at the night sky.
“Call it instinct.”
“Hmm. Anyway, you’re not ancient.”
“Compared to you, Elle. I’ll be thirty-six this year.”
“And I’ll be twenty-five. That isn’t a big deal unless we make it a big deal. It’s…” She hesitates, then laughs gently. “Believable. I think it works for our fake-dating angle. People would believe people of our age would date. But don’t avoid the question. I need data.”
I chuckle. “I’ve never had a long-term relationship.”
“And why’s that?”
“Too busy with work. Being a soldier, then being a cop.”
Then getting justice when the law fails.
She rests her head against my shoulder. “Then maybe we should be glad this is only make-believe, huh?”
I clear my throat. I’m aching for her in a way that makes no damn sense. I just met this woman and yet…
“Maybe,” I say. “What about you, Elle?”
“What happened to Sunshine?”
“You like that?”
“Yeah, actually. I do.”
“You know, Sunshine, if I were your boyfriend, I’d kiss the top of your head right now. Like in the movies. Lean in and kiss you and smell your scent.”
She finds my hand in the dark. Squeezes hard. When she speaks, it’s daring, like she’s taking a chance and knows it. “Then maybe you should do that.”
I move my lips to her hair, breathe her in. She smells of vanilla, and something else, something more primal. When I kiss her head, she makes a soft sighing noise that touches something deep inside me.
“That felt very… convincing,” she murmurs.
“I’m convinced,” I agree.
“So, if you’re determined to pretend, you’re not a ladies’ magnet—”
“Whoa, slow down. What do you mean, pretend?”
“I saw the way those women were looking at you today.”
“What women?”
“Come on, neighbor. The ones power walking down Main Street, the yoga-pants gang. It’s not a big deal. They were just staring.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tell her, clueless to what she is talking about.
“Oh, really?”
“Seriously.” I look down at her. She’s staring up at me, suspicion in her eyes. “I don’t remember any women, yoga pants, or sweatpants, or any kind of pants.”
“Seriously? Most men would’ve loved that: been flattered at least.”
I search my mind, not wanting to lie to her. Not more than I already am, anyway. “Seriously.”
“Then you’re a different breed, Rhett,” she says, shaking her head. “That’s nuts. Anyway, I was saying… maybe you should tell me what your dream girl would be.”
“You really want to know?” I ask.
“If you tell me, I can try to be more like her. You know, to sell our whole fake-relationship thing.”
“My ideal woman would probably be around twenty-four years old, with perfect gold-colored eyes, a shield of sassiness but a clear, gorgeous layer of vulnerability underneath. She’d be the best big sister any girl could ask for, and a fighter. Every single day she’d fight. Even when she was scared. Especially when she was scared.”
Elle licks her lips, eyes glistening. I love it when her eyes do that. Shine like she might cry, but she will not let herself. Strength and softness mixing together.
“She’d become a painting while doing something as simple as looking out a window,” I tell her. “Her eyes filling with her own special point of view, an angle only she sees. Finding the light, Elle, that’s what she’d do.”
“This hypothetical girl,” she whispers.
I lean in close. Knowing I shouldn’t do this, not yet. Not until she knows. Knowing I could break a little girl’s heart if I shatter the dream too soon. Or is that just an excuse?
She turns away, sucks in a breath. I’m moving too fast.
“What about you?” I ask, massaging her shoulder again. Calming myself down. “I need data too, Sunshine.”
“I’ve never really thought about it,” she says softly. “But I think I’d want a man who understands that I’m a human being.”
“That’s a low bar, Elle.”
“It’s rarer than you’d realize.”
“Of course you’re a human being,” I practically snarl.
“Some men want a woman to fit neatly into a little box. To do all the right things at the right time. I just want… a person, treating me like a person. Two people going through life doing people-y things.”
I lean down and kiss the top of her head again. “Like I said. Low bar. You should think of something more than that. Expect more than that.”
She sighs. “I always thought I’d stay single for a long, long time anyway.”
“Thought, past tense?”
“Well, we’re in a relationship now, aren’t we?” She speaks in that sarcastic tone that I recognize.
I know she’s dodging something real. Can’t begrudge her that. It’s only been a few days.
We return to silence. Over the course of a few minutes, I hear her breathing picking up, like she’s building to something. Finally, she sits up, looks at me with sunshine eyes, bright even in the dark.